foot to the ladder. "I shall die if you go down there."

"I am going just the same. Don't be afraid, little woman. My pocket
knife is open and it is a trusty blade. Now, be brave and be quick.
Follow me down the ladder and cut for it."

"Please, please, please!" she implored, wringing her hands.

But he was already half-way down the ladder and refused to stop.

Suddenly Crosby paused as if checked in his progress by some
insurmountable obstacle. The dog was at the foot of the ladder, snarling
with joy over the prospective end of his long vigil. Above, Mrs. Delancy
was moaning and imploring him to come back to her side, even threatening
to spring from the beam to the floor before he could reach the bottom.

"By George!" he exclaimed, and then climbed up three or four rounds of
the ladder, greatly to the annoyance of the dog.

"What is it?" cried Mrs. Delancy, recovering her balance on the beam.

"Let me think for a minute," he answered, deliberately resting his elbow
on an upper round.

"It is about time you were doing a little thinking," she said, relief
and asperity in her voice. "In another second I should have jumped into
that dog's jaws."

"I believe it can be done," he went on, excited enthusiasm growing in
his voice. "That's what bulldogs are famous for, isn't it?"