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"Can't you climb down the tree with him? I'll hold it steady."
"I'll try it."
Andy made his preparations with care, for what he proposed to attempt was difficult and dangerous. A tumble to the rocks at the foot of the cliff might mean broken limbs, if not worse.
With care he raised the unconscious form up and placed it over his shoulder. Then he turned around, and, inch by inch, felt his way out on the sapling.
"I'm coming!" he called. "Hold it, Chet, or we'll both come down!"
"I'll hold it," was the confident reply.
Gripping the knees of the man with his left hand, Andy held on to the sapling with his right. Stepping and sliding, he came down slowly. The young tree bent and threatened once to slip to one side, but Chet braced it with all his strength. In a minute more Andy was down, and had stretched the man out on the snow. The boy was panting from his exertions.
"I suppose we ought to have a doctor for him," said Chet, as he made an examination of the unfortunate one's wounds. "But I don't know of any around here."
"Nor do I. We can't leave him here,--he'll freeze to death. Where do you suppose we ought to take him?"
"I don't know of a single place within a mile,--and I don't suppose we ought to carry him as far as that. He may be hurt inside, and if he is, it won't do to move him too much."
Much perplexed by the situation which confronted them, the two boys talked the matter over. It was so cold at the foot of the cliff that to remain there was out of the question. At last Chet suggested moving to a clump of pine trees, where they might fix up some sort of temporary shelter and build a fire. They picked up their guns and the belongings of the man, and Chet took the unfortunate over his shoulder. He groaned several times, but did not speak or open his eyes.
"He is certainly hurt quite seriously," said Andy. "I hope he doesn't die on our hands."
"Do you know his name, or where he comes from?"
"No, but I guess we can find that out by looking in his pockets. He must have cards or a notebook, or something."
"He looks as if he was well off. That gun is an A No. 1 piece."
"Yes, and look at the fine clothing he is wearing."
It was a hard walk, and they had to take turns in carrying the unconscious man. To add to the gloom of the situation, it now commenced to snow again.
Presently they reached a spot that looked good to them. There were a series of rocks to the northward, backed up by a thick growth of pines.
At the foot of the rocks grew some brushwood.
Chet had calculated to spend some time hunting, and had with him a hatchet, with which to cut firewood. In a very few minutes he had cut out some of the brushwood, leaving a cleared s.p.a.ce about eight feet square. Over the top of the cleared s.p.a.ce he threw some saplings and pine branches, and then "wove in" pine branches around the sides. By this means he soon had a shelter ready, which, while it was by no means air-tight, was a great deal better than nothing. On the floor of the shelter he placed other pine branches, and there he and Andy made the suffering man as comfortable as possible. As soon as they had reached the spot, Andy had started up a fire, right in front of the opening, and this now gave out a warmth that was much appreciated.
With some warm water made from melted snow, the lads washed the wounds of the man, and then bound them up with strips torn from their shirts.
They used other water for making coffee, and poured some of this down the man's throat. They also rubbed his hands and wrists, doing what they could think of to revive him.
In the meantime the snow continued to come down, lightly at first, and then so thickly that the entire landscape around the shelter was blotted out.
"It's going to be a corker of a storm," announced Chet, as he gazed out.
"I can't see a thing anywhere," was Andy's answer. "Wonder how long it will last."
"Several hours, maybe."
"I don't see how we are going to get a doctor to come here while it is like this."
"Better not try to find one. If you go out, you may lose your way."
They replenished the fire, and cut a good stock of wood, and then sat down to watch the man. In one of his pockets they found a card-case.
"His name is Barwell Dawson," announced Andy, "and he comes from Brooklyn."
"What business is he in?"
"It doesn't say."
That the stranger was rich was quite evident. He wore a fine gold watch and chain, and an elegant diamond ring. In one pocket he had a wallet filled with bills of large denomination.
"He is one of your high-toned sportsmen," announced Chet. "Some of 'em come up to Maine every fall to hunt."
"It's a wonder he didn't have a guide, Chet."
"Oh, some of 'em think they can do better without one."
Suddenly the man opened his eyes wide, stared around for a moment, and then sat up. The change was so unexpected that the boys were amazed.
"Where--Who are you?" he stammered.
"You've had a bad fall--came down over the cliff," answered Andy.
"What? Oh, yes, so I did. I--I----" The man felt of his head. "Why, I'm all bandaged up!"
"You got cut pretty badly," said Chet. "We're wondering if you broke any bones."
"Yes?" The man gave a little groan. "I'm hurt, that's sure. Oh!" And then he put his hand to his side.
"You had better keep quiet for a while," said Andy, gently. "It won't do you any good to stir around. We'd get a doctor, only it's snowing so we're afraid we might miss the trail."
"Snowing? It wasn't snowing when I fell."
"That was nearly two hours ago."
"And I've been knocked out all that time?" The man fell back on the pine boughs. "No wonder I feel so broken up."
He closed his eyes, and the boys thought he was going to faint. Chet got some more coffee.
"Here, drink this, it will do you good," he said, and placed the tin cup to the sufferer's lips. The man gulped down the beverage, and it seemed to give him a little strength. Presently he sat up again.
"Did you two see me take the tumble?" he questioned, with a weak attempt at a smile.
"I saw you," answered Andy. "You didn't come all the way over the cliff.
You struck a ledge and hung there, and we got you down and brought you here."
"I see."