it and hold the joints together. Then he leaned down.
"Phil, can you take hold?" he questioned.
The youth below raised his hands feebly. But his strength was apparently gone, and he could do little to save himself.
"Hold the pole, Dave, I'll go down!" cried Roger. "But don't let me slip!"
While Dave braced himself on the rocks as best he could and gripped the pole and line, the senator's son went over the rocks and down, hand over hand. This was easy, and in a minute he stood beside Phil in the water. The torrent from above poured over his back, but to this he paid no attention. He saw that Phil was on the point of fainting, and if he sank down he would surely be drowned.
Letting go his hold on the fishing pole, Roger felt down in the water, and then discovered that Phil's feet were crossed and held by a rock that was balanced on another rock. In coming down, Phil's weight had caused the space between the two rocks to widen, then the opening had partly closed, holding the feet as if in the jaws of some big animal.
It was no easy matter for Roger to shift the upper rock, and once he slipped and went flat on his back in the water with a loud splash.
"Be careful!" warned Dave from above.
