Garry lowered the boy into the cut.
"Now you'll have to let me down, I'm afraid," said Tom. "My hands are
funny and I can't--I can't go hand over hand."
"That's easy," said Garry.
But it was not so easy as it had been to lower the smaller boy. He had
to encircle the tree twice with the rope to guard against a too rapid
descent, and to smooth the precipice where the rope went over the edge
to keep it from cutting. When Tom had been lowered into the cut, Garry
himself went down hand over hand.
It was cool down there, but they could hear the wild flames raging above
and many sparks descended and died on the already burned surface. The
air blew in a strong, refreshing draught through the deep gully, and the
three boys, hardly realizing their hair-breadth escape, seemed to be in
a different world, or rather, in the cellar of the world above, which
was being swept by that heartless roistering wind and fire.
* * * * *
Along through the cut they came, a dozen or more scarred and weary
scouts, their clothing in tatters, anxious and breathing heavily. They
had come by the long way around the edge of the woods and got into the
cut where the hill was low and the gully shallow.
"Is anyone there?" a scout called, as they neared the point above which
Hero Cabin had stood. They knew well enough that no one could be left
alive above.
"We're here," called Garry.
"Hurt? Did you jump--both of you?"
"Three, the kid and I and Tom Slade.
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