The Adventures of Don Lavington Part 76

Don paid no heed to his words, but turned himself completely round, so that he held on, with his back to the stony wall, and his heels upon a couple of rough projections, in so perilous a position that Jem looked on aghast, afraid now to speak. In front of Don, about nine feet away, and the top level with his feet, was the tree of which he had spoken.

As far as support was concerned, it was about as reasonable to trust to a tall fishing-rod; but it appeared to be the only chance, and Don hesitated no longer than was necessary to calculate his chances.

"Don't do it, Mas' Don. It's impossible, and like chucking yourself away. Let's climb up again; it's the only chance; and if we can't get to the village in time, why, it arn't our fault. No, my lad, don't!"

As the last words left his lips, Don stood perfectly upright, balancing himself for a few moments, and then, almost as if he were going to dive into the water, he extended his hands and sprang outward into s.p.a.ce.

Jem Wimble uttered a low groan.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

DON'S REPORT.

In the case of a leap like that made by Don, there was no suspense for the looker on, for the whole affair seemed to be momentary. Jem saw him pa.s.s through the air and disappear in the ma.s.s of greenery with a loud rushing sound, which continued for a few moments, and then all was still.

"He's killed; he's killed!" groaned Jem to himself; "and my Sally will say it was all my fault."

He listened eagerly.

"Mas' Don!" he shouted.

"Hullo, Jem! I say, would you drop if you were me?"

"Drop? Then you arn't killed?"

"No, not yet. Would you drop?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I'm hanging on to the end of that young tree, and it keeps going up and down like a spring, and it won't go any nearer than about twelve feet from the ground. Would you drop?"

_Whish_! _Rush_! _Crash_! _Thud_!

The young tree sprang up again, cleaving a way for itself through the thick growth, and standing nearly erect once more, ragged and sadly deprived of its elegant proportions, just as a dull sound announced Don's arrival on _terra firma_.

"All right, Jem!" he cried. "Not hurt. Look here; spread your arms out well and catch tight round the tree as you jump at it. You'll slip down some distance and scratch yourself, but you can't hurt much."

"I hear, Mas' Don," said Jem, drawing a long breath full of relief.

"I'm a-coming. It's like taking physic," he added to himself; "but the sooner you takes it, the sooner it's down. Here goes! Say, Mas' Don, do you ketch hold o' the tree with your hands, or your arms and legs?"

"All of them. Aim straight at the stem, and leap out boldly."

"Oh, yes," grumbled Jem; "it's all very well, but I was never 'prenticed to this sort o' fun.--Below!"

"A good bold jump, Jem. I'm out of the way."

"Below then," said Jem again.

"Yes, jump away. Quick!"

But Jem did not jump. He distrusted the ability of the tree to bear his weight.

"Why don't you jump?"

"'Cause it seems like breaking my neck, which is white, to save those of them people in the village, which is black, Mas' Don."

"But you will not break your neck if you are careful."

"Oh, yes! I'll be careful, Mas' Don; don't you be 'fraid of that."

"Well, come along. You're not nervous, are you, Jem?"

"Yes, Mas' Don, reg'lar scared; but, below, once more. Here goes!

Don't tell my Sally I was afraid if I do get broke."

Possibly Jem would have hesitated longer, but the stump of the bush upon which he stood gave such plain intimation of coming out by the roots, that he thought it better to leap than fall, and gathering himself up, he plunged right into the second kauri pine, and went headlong down with a tremendous crash.

For he had been right in his doubts. The pine was not so able to bear his weight as its fellow had been to carry Don. He caught it tightly, and the tree bent right down, carrying him nearly to the earth, where he would have done well to have let go; but he clung to it fast, and the tree sprang up again, bent once more, and broke short off, Jem falling at least twenty feet into the bushes below.

"Hurt, Jem?" cried Don, forcing his way to his side.

"Hurt? Now is it likely, Mas' Don? Hurt? No. I feel just like a babby that's been lifted gently down and laid on a feather cushion.

That's 'bout how I feel. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Here, give's a hand.

Gently, dear lad; I'm like a skin full o' broken bones. Help me out o'

this tangle, and let's see how much of me's good, and how much 'll have to be throwed away. Eggs and bacon! What a state I'm in!"

Don helped him as tenderly as he could out into an open s.p.a.ce, and softly a.s.sisted him to lie down, which Jem did, groaning, and was perfectly still for a few moments flat there on his back.

"Are you in much pain, Jem?" said Don, anxiously.

"Horrid, lad, horrid. I think you'd better go on and warn 'em, and come and fetch me arterwards; only don't forget where I am, and not find me.

Look! There's two o' them birds coming to see what's the matter."

"I can't leave you, Jem. You're of more consequence to me than all the New Zealanders in the place."

"Am I, Mas' Don? Come, that's kindly spoke of you. But bother that tree! Might ha' behaved as well to me as t'other did to you."

"Where do you feel in pain, Jem?"

"Where? It's one big solid slapping pain all over me, but it's worst where there's a big thorn stuck in my arm."

"Let me see."

"No; wait a bit. I don't mean to be left alone out here if I can help it. Now, Mas' Don, you lift that there left leg, and see if it's broke."

Don raised it tenderly, and replaced it gently.