"I have it," returned his chum. "Come on." "Where to?" "I'll show you." Wondering what his friend had in mind to do, Chet followed Andy to where was located an ash sapling of fair size. It had been broken off about two feet above the ground--how, they could not tell. "We can put that against the cliff, and use it as a ladder," said Andy. "Provided we can get it over, Andy." Both began to tug at the sapling, and at last got it free from the stump end. Then they fairly rushed with it to the bottom of the cliff. "You hold the end, and I'll raise it up," said Chet, who was a little the stronger of the two. "We can put the top right against the man, and that will keep him from rolling down." "If it will reach that far." "I think it will." Their experience as lumbermen stood them in good stead, and while Andy kept the bottom of the ash sapling from slipping in the snow, his chum raised it slowly but steadily, until it stood upright. Then Chet let it go over against the cliff with care, so that the man might not be further injured. The little tree reached several feet above the man's head. "I'll go up and see what I can do for him," said Andy, throwing off his overcoat. "You steady the tree, Chet." "All right. But be careful." From early boyhood days Andy had been a good climber, and he went up the ash sapling with ease. The young tree was strong, so there was no danger of its breaking beneath his weight. Soon his feet touched the ledge, and he knelt down beside the hurt man. "Why, I know him!" he called down to his chum. "He's the man I told you about--the one who asked me about the road to Moose Ridge." "Pull him back, before he has a chance to slip," ordered Chet, and this Andy did. The movement made the man groan, and presently he opened his eyes for an instant. "Oh, what a fall!" he murmured, and then relapsed into unconsciousness again. "We'll have to get him down from here and try to do something for him," announced Andy. "He has a bad cut behind his left ear. I can't do anything for him up here--it's too slippery." "Can't you climb down the tree with him? I'll hold it steady." "I'll try it." Andy made his preparations with care, for what he proposed to attempt was difficult and dangerous. A tumble to the rocks at the foot of the cliff might mean broken limbs, if not worse. With care he raised the unconscious form up and placed it over his shoulder. Then he turned around, and, inch by inch, felt his way out on the sapling. "I'm coming!" he called. "Hold it, Chet, or we'll both come down!" "I'll hold it," was the confident reply. Gripping the knees of the man with his left hand, Andy held on to the sapling with his right. Stepping and sliding, he came down slowly. The young tree bent and threatened once to slip to one side, but Chet braced it with all his strength. In a minute more Andy was down, and had stretched the man out on the snow. The boy was panting from his exertions.