In a flash Kitty was off the ledge and worming his way with hands and feet up the side of the Rock. Rodney, followed by the twins, hurried down the path to the ground below and then around to the other side. The first thing they saw was Kitty, scrambling fast about fifty feet up the ledge, and then their gaze found Tad. He was flattened against the face of the Rock at what looked a fearsome distance from the earth. Both hands were clutched desperately at the stone, and one foot was thrust into a crevice. But the other foot hung in the air. Evidently he could find no support for it. The summit of the Rock seemed to be about ten or twelve feet above his head. The twins gazed upward with white and horrified faces. Rodney put his hands to his mouth and called:

“Can you hold on, Tad? Kitty is coming up!”

Very slowly Tad turned his face over his shoulder, but made no attempt to look down at them.

“Guess I’ve got to!” he called rather faintly. “Tell Kitty to hurry up!”

“He’s almost to you now,” shouted Rodney encouragingly. Then he moved around and hailed Kitty. “He’s all right so far, but he wants you to hurry, Kitty!” There was no response from Kitty, but the latter went on steadily, his stockinged feet finding incredible footholds, and his hands seeming to glue themselves to the sheer surface of the granite. A jutting elbow of rock still hid Tad from his sight as, reaching the shallow fissure, he used knees as well as feet and found himself presently but a scant four yards from the summit. Then it was plain to be seen why Tad had come to grief. After emerging from the fissure, instead of keeping straight up he had worked to the left, taking advantage of a crack into which he could thrust his toes, evidently in the expectation of reaching a projecting point of rock some twelve feet beyond. Had he gained the boulder he could easily have pulled himself to the top and so gained the final summit. But, unfortunately, the crack had narrowed speedily and at last, having set his right foot on the last foothold, he could go no further. Nor, since his grip of the rock above him was none too secure, did he dare remove the weight of his body from that right foot to work back the way he had come. All this Kitty saw, as, panting with the rapidity of his ascent, he paused at the top of the fissure. Tad was about level with him, but separated by some eight feet of rock.

“Keep your head,” he said shortly. “Be there in a minute.”

“Hello, Kitty!” Tad tried to speak lightly, but the strain of sticking there like a limpet to the almost straight up and down face of the ledge was beginning to tell, and his voice shook a little. “I’m in a fix,” he added. “Can’t get one way or t’other. See any place I can stick this left foot, old man?”

“No. Stay where you are a minute. Can you hold on?”

“Got to, haven’t I?” responded Tad grimly. “If you can do anything, Kitty, do it quick, though. My fingers are numb, and this right foot of mine is about all in.”

“All right.” But Kitty, frowning and blinking, studying the situation with sharp, quick glances, was stumped. To reach Tad from above seemed the most feasible plan, but in that case he would have to lower a rope or something to the other, and Kitty much doubted whether Tad would be able to grasp it, or, having grasped it, be able to hold on to it long enough to be pulled over the edge. Kitty knew from experience just how a fellow’s muscles felt after clinging to one position for many minutes. To reach Tad by following in his footsteps across the rock was easy, but what help could Kitty lend him when he was there? Kitty’s gaze fell finally to the ledge below Tad’s precarious perch, and at that moment Tad spoke again.

“You there, Kitty?” he asked. Evidently he was afraid to turn his head to look for fear the movement would dislodge one of the straining hands.

“Yes,” replied Kitty.

“Can’t you—do anything?” panted Tad anxiously.

“Yes. Hold on a minute more, Tad.”

“I will—if I can,” answered Tad in a weak voice.

“You’ve got to,” said Kitty. He was already scrambling back down the fissure. Rodney, watching below with a thumping heart, groaned. It looked as though Kitty had given up. But at the bottom of the fissure Kitty paused, gripped the rock with both hands, and sent one gray-stockinged foot searching to the left for a projection. At last he found it, tested it, paused an instant, and then wormed his body from the fissure and out against the blank wall of rock. The granite was loose and crumbly thereabouts and a little shower of gravel trickled down. Kitty studied the rock beyond. Here and there small inequalities gave faint promise of affording hold for feet and hands, but from where Rodney stood below the journey across that steep face of rock looked hopeless and foolhardy. Matty and May had ceased watching. At a little distance under the shadow of the Rock they stood white faced and miserable.

“Kitty’s trying to get across to him lower down,” announced Rodney to them. “I don’t see how he can do it though. It doesn’t look as if—” Rodney’s voice broke off short and a gasp escaped him. Kitty, in taking his weight from one foot, had placed too much reliance on a tiny projection above him and a nodule of granite had broken off in his hand. For an instant he had swayed dangerously before, summoning his strength, he had thrown his body against the rock. Then during a heartbreaking moment he clung there while his disengaged hand travelled here and there above him, the clutching fingers seeking a new hold. They found it at last and Rodney’s fast beating heart leaped with relief. How Kitty ever made the journey across that seemingly smooth face of granite will always remain a mystery to the others. Afterwards Kitty himself acknowledged that he didn’t believe he could do it again, adding with conviction, “Sure I don’t want to try!” But across it he went, at a snail’s pace to be sure, but steadily. And at last he was directly under Tad, and by reaching one hand upward could touch that youth’s heel.

“I’m under you, Tad,” panted Kitty.

“I know,” answered Tad.

“Hold on a second longer while I get my breath,” instructed the rescuer. There was no reply to this. Tad had no energy to waste in talk. Kitty remained very still while one might have counted fifty. Then, flattened against the wall of rock, his stockinged feet set on tiny roughened angles and the fingers of his left hand clutching a point of rock above his head, he reached his right hand upward until it was under Tad’s hanging foot.

“My hand is under your left foot, Tad,” he said quietly. “Find it.”

Very gingerly Tad moved the dangling rubber soled “sneaker” to and fro, until at last it settled into the palm of the upstretched hand.

“All right,” instructed Kitty. “Put your weight on it slowly.”

“Can you hold it?” asked Tad anxiously.

“Yes. All ready? Now!” He braced himself as the weight of Tad’s body came against him. His toes were cutting cruelly against the rough granite, and his left hand strained about its precarious hold.

“Now move your other foot further to your right and get a new grip with it. Straight along, Tad.”

There was a groan from above. “It’s numb,” said Tad. “I can’t feel anything.”

“Do as I say,” said Kitty gruffly. “Find the crevice with it. Got it?”

“I—I think so.”

“Put your weight on it carefully and see. I can’t look up.”

There was an instant of silence. Then,

“It’s all right,” sighed Tad. “I’m going to get a new hold with my hands, Kitty.”

“One at a time,” said Kitty. “Go slow. I can hold you for awhile.”

“I’ve moved one,” said Tad presently. “It—it’s sort of weak though, I guess——”

“Work the fingers and get the blood back. Better?”

“Y-yes.”

“Now get your other over.”

The weight on Kitty’s hand increased for an instant. Then Tad announced that he had moved his left hand over. “I guess I can get that foot into the crack now,” he said nervously.

“All right. Go easy though. Try your weight on the other first. How is it?”

“All right. Here goes, Kitty.”

There was a moment of hesitation. Then the weight on Kitty’s hand was gone, there was a gasp from Tad, and Kitty, finding a hold with the released hand, dared to look up. Tad’s feet were both thrust into the crevice, and Kitty gave a sigh of relief. Tad’s legs were trembling and Kitty could hear his quick breathing above him.

“Stay where you are now until I tell you to go on,” said Kitty. “You’re perfectly safe, but you’d better rest a bit.”

“I—know,” replied Tad faintly.

There was a hail from the ground. “Are you all right, Kitty?” shouted Rodney anxiously.

“Yes! Be down in a minute or two. Get my shoes and the coats from the ledge, Rod! Now then, Tad, start along to the big crack in the rock. Make sure of your holds, though, before you put all your weight on them. I’ll follow below, and if you want help, sing out.”

Tad made slow work of it, but at that it was all Kitty could do to make similar progress. Tad had easy going compared with Kitty, and it was only the fact that his nerves were pretty well unstrung and his muscles quivering that allowed his rescuer to reach the fissure at the same moment. Once there Tad braced his knees against the sides of the cavity and looked for a moment very much as though he was going to faint away.

Kitty, seeing the danger, shouted a warning from below.

“None of that, you idiot!” he called sharply. “Brace up or you’ll fall! Here, put a foot on my shoulder for a minute. Now take a dozen good long breaths.”

“I—can’t!” muttered Tad.

“You can! When I count now! One—two—three— Doing it?”

“Yes, but—it makes me dizzy.”

“Stop, then, and close your eyes a minute. If you’d take decent care of your lungs,” went on Kitty grumblingly, “they wouldn’t mind a little pure air!”

“Old—Leather Lungs!” murmured Tad with a very wan smile. Kitty grunted.

“Come on down now. Feel pretty good?”

“I guess so. Yes, I’m all right. Go ahead, Kitty.”

Tad followed to the end of the slanting fissure and then began the scramble down and around the corner. When they were near the ledge Kitty called, “Don’t try getting to the ledge. Come straight down. There’s good going. Watch me.”

Tad watched and followed and in another minute the two boys dropped into a bed of sweet fern, Kitty on his feet and Tad on his back. “Don’t mind—me,” muttered Tad, closing his eyes. “I—I’m sort of done up, I guess.” Then his white face suddenly went whiter still and Matty, who, closely followed by May, had run up in Rodney’s wake, exclaimed, “Oh, Rod, he’s fainted!”