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 a faint reminder of his old insouciance in his voice. "Nice fix, eh?"

"Yes, but don't worry, and—you'd better not talk."

"Guess I'd rather," answered Laurie. "Sort of keeps me from thinking about—things." After a moment he continued. "Position's sort of cramped, Polly. Bob there, or did he go, too?"

"No, I'm here," answered Bob. "I've been thinking—"

"Don't do it," said Laurie. "I tried it, and now look at me! Wish my legs wouldn't tremble. How wide's the thing I'm standing on, Bob?"

"Three inches. Maybe four. What I was—"

"Rock?"

"Yes, a sort of narrow ledge across the face; a fault, as they call it. It runs downward at your left almost to the bottom, I'd say. Listen, Nod. Suppose I got a long pole and lowered one end to you and held the other. Would that be easier for you to hold on to?"

Laurie considered a moment. "I reckon so," he answered. "My right arm's just about dislocated. Try it, will you, Bob?"

Bob arose and disappeared into the woods.