The Western girl turned immediately to Hiram, who had now come to the bank's edge. She smiled at him charmingly, and her eyes danced. She evidently appreciated the fact that the young farmer had her at a disadvantage--and she had meant to snub him. “I guess you'll have to help me again, Mr. Strong,” she said. “What will we do? Can you push out a plank to us, or something?” “I'm afraid not, Miss Bronson,” he returned. “I could cut a pole and reach it to the boat; but you girls couldn't walk ashore on it.” “Oh, dear! have we got to wade?” cried one of Lettie's friends. “You can't wade. It's too deep between the shore and the boat,” Hiram said, calmly. “Then--then we'll stay here till the tide rises and dr-dr-drowns us!” wailed another of the girls, giving way to sobs. “Don't be a goose, Myra Carroll!” exclaimed Lettie. “If you waited here for the tide to rise you'd be gray-haired and decrepit. The tide doesn't rise here. But maybe a spring flood would wash you away.” At that the frightened one sobbed harder than ever. She was one of those who ever see the dark side of adventure. There was no hope on her horizon. “I dunno what you can do for these girls,” said the man. “I'd git out and push off the boat, but I don't dare with them aboard.” But Hiram's mind had not been inactive, if he was standing in seeming idleness. Sister tugged at his sleeve again and whispered: “Have they got to stay there and drown, Hi?” “I guess not,” he returned, slowly. “Let's see: this old sycamore leans right out over them. I can shin up there with the aid of the big grapevine. Then, if I had a rope----” “Shall I run and get one?” demanded Sister, listening to him. “Hullo!” exclaimed Hiram, speaking to the man in the boat. “Well?” asked the fellow. “Haven't you got a coil of strong rope aboard?” “There's the painter,” said the man. “Toss it ashore here,” commanded Hiram. “Oh, Hiram Strong!” cried Lettie. “You don't expect us to walk tightrope, do you?” and she began to giggle. “No. I want you to unfasten the end of the rope. I want it clear--that's it,” said Hiram. “And it's long enough, I can see.” “For what?” asked Sister. “Wait and you'll see,” returned the young farmer, hastily coiling the rope again. He hung it over his shoulder and then started to climb the big sycamore. He could go up the bole of this leaning tree very quickly, for the huge grapevine gave him a hand-hold all the way. “Whatever are you going to do?” cried Lettie Bronson, looking up at him, as did the other girls. “Now,” said Hiram, in the first small crotch of the tree, which was almost directly over the stranded launch, “if you girls have any pluck at all, I can get you ashore, one by one.” “What do you mean for us to do, Hiram?” repeated Lettie. The young farmer quickly fashioned a noose at the end of the line--not a slipnoose, for that would tighten and hurt anybody bearing upon it. This he dropped down to the boat and Lettie caught it.