Harriet, it will be remembered, had hold of the little girl's
hands, or rather one hand, when Tommy's belt broke. The jolt was so
great that it seemed to the two girls as if their arms would be pulled
from their sockets.
Tommy thought, too, that she was being hurled to her death when she
felt herself falling. But Harriet, with unusual presence of mind, had
clutched the little girl's hand with a desperate grip.
"Give me the other hand," she panted.
"I--I can't," sobbed Tommy, who immediately began to wriggle in an
attempt to reach the shelf.
"Then keep quiet. Don't stir." Instead of keeping quiet, the girl,
now fairly beside herself with fear, began a series of lunges for the
ridge above her. The result was what Harriet had feared. She felt
herself slipping forward toward the edge. In those few seconds Harriet
Burrell came nearer to realizing what fear was than ever before. To
let go would be to save herself at the cost of Tommy's life. Harriet
not only held on; but reached over her free hand which she clasped over
that of her companion. Now she slipped more than ever.
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