Juvenile adventure story by WMG. A lot of fun.
Quote:
Pine needles are treacherous things, even on level ground, and when Clay happened to step on a particularly thick bunch his foot slipped and he was thrown quickly on his side. Before he could realize his danger he slid to the verge of the precipice—where there was nothing to stop him—and vanished from sight.
Ned was horror stricken, and had to clutch the nearest tree for support. Half a dozen seconds passed, but the splash that he dreaded to hear did not come. Then he made his way cautiously to a rock that jutted from the cliff half a dozen-feet from where Clay had fallen. Ned threw himself flat on his breast and peered down.
Clay was twenty feet below him clinging to a bunch of stout bushes that grew in a crevice of the cliff. His feet rested on a tiny ledge no more than six inches wide, and below him was a clear drop of thirty feet to the dark surface of the creek.
Ned realized his utter inability to render aid, and his agony found vent in a sharp cry.
Clay turned a white, pitiful face upward.
"You can't help me," he gasped hoarsely. "The bushes are tearing loose. If the water is deep I stand a chance. Try to get—"
His feeble voice was smothered by a sharp ripping noise, and the next instant he plunged downward, attended by a shower of dirt and stones.
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