By this time Sam had gained a few bushes which grew but a dozen
feet away from the edge of the cliff, that at this point was
nearly forty feet in height. With his right hand held a painful
prisoner, he clutched at the bushes with his left.

"I've got the bushes, but I can't hold on long!" he panted, as
Dick came close. "Help me, quick!"

Scarcely had the words left his mouth when the bushes came up by
the roots and poor Sam fell over on his side. Then came another
strong puff of wind, and he was dragged to the very edge of the
rocky ledge!

"I'm going!" he screamed, when, making a mighty leap, Dick caught
him by the foot.

"Catch the rock -- anything!" cried the older brother. "If you
don't you'll be killed!"

"Save me!" was all poor Sam could say. "Oh, Dick, don't let me go
over!"

"I'll do my best, Sam," was Dick's answer, and he held on like
grim death.

By this time half a dozen boys were running to the scene. Dora
Stanhope followed, and as she came up she pulled a tiny penknife
from her pocket.