his voice
was all husky. He said, "Blakeley, if I don't make it, you'll have my
body to ease the shock for you. People--people will be here to-morrow--
you'll get out. It's getting _in_ we have to think about. If I don't
make it, try to land on your feet--a little forward--like this--see?
And duck your head and do a summersault forward--see? If you don't want
to, it's none of my business. Only I'm telling you how. Here," he said,
and he threw a lot of things out of his pockets; "you give them to my
patrol."

"Keep them," I said, "I'll get them when I come down, if that's
necessary. It's--it's you and I and Skinny, Bert--sink or swim--live
or die--it's the three of us. I'm ready."

CHAPTER XXXI

TELLS ABOUT THE OLD PASSAGEWAY

Honest, as sure as I'm sitting here, I would have gone down first--
after the way that fellow spoke to me. It just sent thrills through me.
And only a couple of days before, I didn't like him and I thought he
didn't trust Skinny.

I grabbed hold of him and I said, "Bert, I--just a second--_please_--I
have to tell you--if I don't see you again--I mean so I can speak to
you--I have to tell you, you're a hero--"

But he jerked my hand off his sleeve. He didn't say anything, but just
jerked my hand off his sleeve. And I stood there holding the paddle,
and I could hear the water rushing in the valley, and I was breathing
hard and all trembling.

I called, "Bert! Are you all right, Bert?" But he didn't answer. Then I
went to the edge and I was all shaking from head to foot. But I was
ready. It was all dark down there and I couldn't see. Anyway, I was
ready.

"Bert!" I called, and I just waited. I could hear the water rushing
through the valley and sometimes sounds like trees breaking. And I
heard a tree-toad moaning--it seemed funny to hear that.

"Bert!" I called. I felt cold, and my wrists were all tingling. "Bert!"

Then I stuck the paddle in the mud and hung my hat on the end of it.
Just then I heard a voice. It sounded strained and not like Bert's, as
if it couldn't speak on account of pain.

"Don't--jump--stay--"

I waited a few seconds and then called, "If _you're_ hurt, I'm coming
anyway."

"Don't--jump," he kind of groaned; "I'm all right. Just a strain. Don't
jump."

I sat on the edge waiting. I was just counting the seconds. I was
afraid he'd never speak again.

Then he said, "All right, kiddo--just strained my wrist."

"Are you _sure_?" I called down; "dip it in th