As they did so, the sitting men and boys, still doubled up, let
themselves fall forward on their faces.

Slowly the line lengthened out like the unwinding of the coils of a
serpent, Ned Rector slipping slowly over the brink, the red man
squirming after him, until both were clear of the edge, hanging head
down.

"I've got him," came up the muffled voice of Ned. "But I've got a
rush of blood to the head. Pull now! Pull for all you're worth, all
of you. If you slip we're all gone. Be careful."

His words of caution were not needed. Each realized the
responsibility that rested upon his shoulders, and each was bending
every nerve and muscle in his body to the task.

Eagle-eye himself was urged to renewed efforts by the certain
knowledge that if he failed he would go to join the "evil spirits" in
the rapid waters below.

"Wait a minute. I want to turn him around. He's a dead weight this
way and I'm afraid we won't get him over," cautioned Ned.

After much effort he succeeded finally in turning Stacy around so that
they could clasp hands.

"Now brace your feet, Chunky, and help all you can."

This Stacy did gladly enough.