By the red shirts which all wore, he knew that the one in danger must be one of those five that had dressed themselves in this way. But which of them it was, he could not tell. His shriek roused others. Mr. Long came hurrying there, and the other boys, all looking up with eyes of horror and ashen lips. The moments of that suspense were agony. There was nothing that they could do. Mr. Long alone tried to do something. Starting off at full speed, he ran on, trying to find a place to scale the cliff. Gradually a few others followed. But the rest thought it was of no use, and awaited the end in voiceless horror. Meanwhile Bruce Rawdon had clung to the root, shrieking for help, and trying to find some resting-place for his feet. In vain he tried. The precipice retreated inward, and the shelf that had fallen left a deeper hollow behind. Almost senseless with the horror of his situation, he was conscious of nothing but the fact that friends were near; and for these he shouted, clinging desperately to the root of the tree. Another boy might have fallen; but Bruce’s muscles had been toughened by all kinds of manly exercise, and he had in him the germ and the promise of mighty strength and stature. The shriek that roused Arthur and Bart was followed by others, which led them speedily to the place. With a groan Arthur flung himself down, and grasped his brother by the wrist. Bart took a swift glance around.. A small tree was growing near the edge. Twining his sinewy legs around this, he bent his body over the precipice, and caught Bruce by the waistband. Then, clutching the tree with his legs, he made a mighty effort to raise Bruce. The latter, in the mean while, had seized Arthur, who was also trying to raise him. But Arthur had not a fair chance to exert his full strength, and so they prevailed but little against the dead weight which they were trying to lift. “Arthur!” cried Bart. “Well.” “Can you catch hold of this tree where my legs are? Hold it with one hand, and then you can pull better with your other. Can you do it?” “Yes. I’ve got hold.” “Now then.” With a tremendous effort, both boys pulled together. The slender tree bent beneath their efforts. But the weight was raised! Yes! O, thank God! higher--higher! There was Bruce’s head at the edge, and now his shoulders. And now he himself, by a last; despairing, convulsive effort, had flung himself forward, and was on the rock. They dragged him forward. He was saved. Arthur burst into tears, and held Bruce in his arms. Bart rushed off for water. Returning in a few minutes with his leathern cup,--which he always carried,--full of cold water, he gave it to Bruce. The fainting boy drank it, and then drew a long breath. “God bless you, boys!” he said at last, wringing the hand of each. He would have said more, but he could not.