“Then here goes.” The boy tossed a coil of rope so accurately that the coil dropped directly over Grace Thompson’s head. She uttered a little scream as the rope slipped over her head, then clawed frantically at it. “That’s right,” cried her rescuer. “Now pull.”
Tommy pulled desperately drawing the rail towards her, but sinking deeper and deeper into the mud until she was nearly up to her armpits. The little lisping girl took fresh alarm. She began to cry, “Thave me!”
“Don’t be frightened. Here’s another rail!” encouraged the youth. “We’ve got to build up a bridge. Those limbs and saplings you have out there will make an excellent foundation. Hurry them up here, Dill! The young ladies will grow impatient and refuse to wait for us longer.”
The girls declined to laugh at this pleasantry. They were in too much distress. Harriet stood holding a lantern above her head so that the boys might see to work to the best advantage. The rails were drawn out by Tommy in each instance, assisted by the girls between herself and the path. Then the leader set his boys at work felling the largest trees they could find along the trail. The lads went at their work with a will. As soon as the trees and brush were cut down they were carried over and dumped in on the rail and brush foundation, forming a rude bridge. The leader then advanced cautiously over it until he reached a point near to the guardian and the girls.
A rope was passed about the waist of the guardian despite her protests that the others should be gotten out of the morass first. Three boys were put at the shore end of the rope with orders to pull when their leader gave the word. He, on his part, took firm hold of Miss Elting under the arms, then shouted “now!”
Those on shore began to pull. The leader, at the same time, began to lift with all his might, moving the guardian’s shoulders from left to right.
“Tell me if the rope hurts you,” gasped the muscular young fellow.
Miss Elting came up so suddenly that her rescuer fell over, narrowly escaping a plunge into the morass. The guardian was finally dragged to the path. The rescuers then turned their attention to the other girls. Their wooden raft was slowly sinking under the weight that had been put upon it, but fresh stuff was being constantly piled on it to keep it above the mud. One by one the Meadow-Brook Girls were hauled out.