A goodly number of the South Harniss "natives," those who had not seen him play tennis, would have been willing to swear that running was, for Albert Speranza, an impossibility.His usual gait was a rather languid saunter.They would have changed their minds had they seen him now.
He ran along that path as he had run in school at the last track meet, where he had been second in the hundred-yard dash.He reached the spot where the sod had broken and, dropping on his knees, looked fearfully over.The dust was still rising, the sand and pebbles were still rattling in a diminishing shower down to the beach so far below.But he did not see what he had so feared to see.
What he did see, however, was neither pleasant nor altogether reassuring.The bluff below the sod at its top dropped sheer and undercut for perhaps ten feet.Then the sand and clay sloped outward and the slope extended down for another fifty feet, its surface broken by occasional clinging chunks of beach grass.Then it broke sharply again, a straight drop of eighty feet to the mounds and dunes bordering the beach.
Helen had of course fallen straight to the upper edge of the slope, where she had struck feet first, and from there had slid and rolled to the very edge of the long drop to the beach.Her skirt had caught in the branches of an enterprising bayberry bush which had managed to find roothold there, and to this bush and a clump of beach grass she was clinging, her hands outstretched and her body extended along the edge of the clay precipice.
Albert gasped.
"Helen!" he called breathlessly.
She turned her head and looked up at him.Her face was white, but she did not scream.
"Helen!" cried Albert, again."Helen, do you hear me?""Yes."
"Are you badly hurt?"
"No.No, I don't think so."
"Can you hold on just as you are for a few minutes?""Yes, I--I think so."
"You've got to, you know.Here! You're not going to faint, are you?""No, I--I don't think I am."
"You can't! You mustn't! Here! Don't you do it! Stop!"There was just a trace of his grandfather in the way he shouted the order.Whether or not the vigor of the command produced the result is a question, but at any rate she did not faint.
"Now you stay right where you are," he ordered again."And hang on as tight as you can.I'm coming down."Come down he did, swinging over the brink with his face to the bank, dropping on his toes to the upper edge of the slope and digging boots and fingers into the clay to prevent sliding further.
"Hang on!" he cautioned, over his shoulder."I'll be there in a second.There! Now wait until I get my feet braced.Now give me your hand--your left hand.Hold on with your right."Slowly and cautiously, clinging to his hand, he pulled her away from the edge of the precipice and helped her to scramble up to where he clung.There she lay and panted.He looked at her apprehensively.
"Don't go and faint now, or any foolishness like that," he ordered sharply.
"No, no, I won't.I'll try not to.But how are we ever going to climb up--up there?"Above them and at least four feet out of reach, even if they stood up, and that would be a frightfully risky proceeding, the sod projected over their heads like the eaves of a house.
Helen glanced up at it and shuddered.
"Oh, how CAN we?" she gasped.
"We can't.And we won't try."
"Shall we call for help?"
"Not much use.Nobody to hear us.Besides, we can always do that if we have to.I think I see a way out of the mess.If we can't get up, perhaps we can get down.""Get DOWN?"
"Yes, it isn't all as steep as it is here.I believe we might sort of zig-zag down if we were careful.You hold on here just as you are; I'm going to see what it looks like around this next point."The "point" was merely a projection of the bluff about twenty feet away.He crawfished along the face of the slope, until he could see beyond it.Helen kept urging him to be careful--oh, be careful!
"Of course I'll be careful," he said curtly."I don't want to break my neck.Yes--yes, by George, it IS easier around there! We could get down a good way.Here, here; don't start until you take my hand.And be sure your feet are braced before you move.Come on, now.""I--I don't believe I can."
"Of course you can.You've GOT to.Come on.Don't look down.
Look at the sand right in front of you."
Getting around that point was a decidedly ticklish operation, but they managed it, he leading the way, making sure of his foothold before moving and then setting her foot in the print his own had made.On the other side of the projection the slope was less abrupt and extended much nearer to the ground below.They zigzagged down until nearly to the edge of the steep drop.Then Albert looked about for a new path to safety.He found it still farther on.
"It takes us down farther," he said, "and there are bushes to hold on to after we get there.Come on, Helen! Brace up now, be a sport!"She was trying her best to obey orders, but being a sport was no slight undertaking under the circumstances.When they reached the clump of bushes her guide ordered her to rest.
"Just stop and catch your breath," he said."The rest is going to be easier, I think.And we haven't so very far to go."He was too optimistic.It was anything but easy; in fact, the last thirty feet was almost a tumble, owing to the clay giving way beneath their feet.But there was soft sand to tumble into and they reached the beach safe, though in a dishevelled, scratched and thoroughly smeared condition.Then Helen sat down and covered her face with her hands.Her rescuer gazed triumphantly up at the distant rim of broken sod and grinned.
"There, by George!" he exclaimed."We did it, didn't we? Say, that was fun!"She removed her hands and looked at him.
"WHAT did you say it was?" she faltered.
"I said it was fun.It was great! Like something out of a book, eh?"She began to laugh hysterically.He turned to her in indignant surprise."What are you laughing at?" he demanded.
