His
slow motions said so.
"Come!" said Preston,--"be alive and do it quick, will you?"
"He can't--" said Daisy.
"Yes he can," said Preston. "If he can't he isn't worth his bread and
salt. That's it, Sam--hand over hand, and you'll be there directly."
Sam shewed what he _could_ do, if he did not like it; for he worked
himself up the tall tree like a monkey. It was not so large but he could
clasp it; so after a little rough work on his part and anxious watching
on Daisy's, he got to the branches. But now the line was caught in the
small forks at the leafy end of the branch. Sam lay out upon it as far
as he dared; he could not reach the line.
"O he'll fall!" cried Daisy softly. "O Preston, let him come down!--he
can't get it."
"He'll come to no harm," said Preston coolly. "A little further,
Sam--it's oak wood, it will hold you; a little further, and you will
have it--a little further!--"
And Daisy saw that Sam had gone too far. The bough swayed,--Sam made a
lunge after the line, lost his hold, and the next minute his dark body
was falling through the air and splashed into the pool.
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