IN an instant the voice came again, weak and feeble, but plainly enough so that there was no mistaking it.
"Help! Help!"
"Larry!" Danny cried, cupping his hands to his mouth and calling loudly. "Larry! Joe! Where are you?"
"Down here, Danny!" Larry's voice sounded hollow and frightened above the wind.
For a flickering heartbeat Danny and Glen stood there, staring at one another in the growing darkness.
"Come on!" Glen exclaimed between clenched teeth. "We've got to get down there as fast as we can!"
"Hang on!" Danny called. "We're coming, Larry!"
The young woodsman was in the lead now, moving rapidly along the narrow, icy ledge. With the first word that Larry and Joe were in trouble, he forgot that he had been afraid. He clutched the sharp rocks with his fingers as he sought one handhold after another.
"Be careful, Danny," Glen cautioned,
"Don't worry." Danny paused a moment, a sudden chill seizing him.
Although it only took them a couple of minutes to make their way to a place where they could go down, it seemed to Danny that it had taken an hour or more. But at last Glen touched him on the arm.
"I think this is the spot, Danny," he almost whispered.
"You're right above us, Danny," Larry called, his voice firming a little. "We're down about forty feet, I think. I'm on a little ledge about two feet wide, so be careful."
Fear gripped Danny's heart once more as he looked at those snow-covered rocks and the bottomless wall of granite below them. Glen picked Larry up with the flashlight, and Danny sucked in his breath sharply. His cousin was lying there with one leg doubled strangely under him. There was no sign of Joe.
Danny loosened the rope from his belt and fastened one end securely about his waist. Glen took hold of the rope and, bracing his feet, made ready to help the young woodsman make the perilous trip over the side of the cliff.
With a prayer in his heart Danny took a deep breath and slowly let himself down over the precipice. The rocks were slick and smooth and glazed with ice. His cold fingers clawed desperately for holds, and his feet sought crevices and clumps of grass—anything he could thrust a toe into. More than once his weight eased back on the rope as a foot slipped. His head reeled, and his stomach was a knot of ice, but he could not stop now. He must go on!
As he made his way down the treacherous granite wall, he could hear another voice, whimpering in pain. Joe was still alive! That much he knew! With a prayer of thankfulness he negotiated the last fifteen or twenty feet and dropped carefully to the ledge beside his cousin.
"Oh, Danny," Larry almost sobbed, "I never was so glad to see anyone in my life. Joe's hurt awfully bad!"
"Where is he?"
"Down on the ledge just below us," Larry managed to say, his hand trembling as he pointed. "He fell twenty feet or so, and he's hurt awfully bad."
Danny could just make out Joe's figure, slumped in a heap on still another ledge below them. "Joe!" he called loudly.
In a moment the injured boy answered him, the words muffled and indistinct above the wind.
"We'll be right down!" Danny shouted.
By that time Glen, who had done a great deal of climbing in the mountains, had made his way down the slick rocks to the ledge where Danny and Larry were crouched.
"We've got to do something!" Glen exclaimed. "It's getting colder and darker every minute."
"That wrecked plane isn't over half a mile away," Larry said. "If...if we could get over there, we might be able to send for help on the radio."
"If the radio is still working," Danny said.
"I'll go down and cover Joe up and make him as comfortable as I can," Glen said, untying the rope from about his waist. "You two go over to the plane and try to make that radio work."
"I don't know whether or not I can," Larry gritted. "I guess I got scared after Joe fell and tried to climb the cliff fast. I slipped and hurt my ankle. I don't think I can walk on it."
"But you've got to!" Danny retorted. "You're the only one who can run that radio. Come on, I'll help you!"
Danny couldn't remember how he made the climb in the gathering darkness. There didn't seem to be anything to cling to, nor any holds for his feet. But somehow he inched upward. Now and again he felt the snow and loose rock give way beneath his feet, or felt the rock he grasped come out of the wall in his hands. But he kept moving slowly and uncertainly until he felt his fingers reach over the top of the cliff.
In another moment he scrambled to the ledge and braced himself for Larry to start climbing. His cousin moved slowly, haltingly, leaning so heavily against the rope that it was all the young woodsman could do to hold him. But finally Larry too reached the safety of the trail.
"I...I never thought I'd make it," he panted, sprawling exhausted on the rocks.
"We've got to get to that radio," Danny told him a moment or two later.
"Just a minute, Danny." There was a strange tone in the other's voice. "Before we go, I want to tell you that I'm sorry for the bad time I gave you."
"That's all right, Larry," Danny replied. "Only I wish you'd take Christ as your Saviour now. He's the answer, Larry. Believe me."
"We'd better go and get some help first," his cousin said, changing the subject quickly. "I'll take Christ as my Saviour one of these days."
With that he got to his feet and began to hobble along the trail. Danny grasped his arm and pulled it over his own strong shoulder. "Come on," he said, "I'll help you."
Danny prayed for him as they walked slowly along the stony trail toward the plane, asking God to help Larry see his need of a Saviour and to help him to put his trust in the Lord Jesus. He prayed for Joe and Glen too, who were huddled on the dangerously narrow ledge.
At last, however, they reached the badly wrecked plane. Danny's heart sank within him. The radio was probably damaged.
"Now we'll see if it works!" Larry said tensely as he dragged his injured ankle through the wreckage to the radio transmitter.
He dropped in front of the radio and fumbled in the darkness for the switch.
"Is it going to work?" Danny asked, his voice tense with excitement.
Larry didn't speak for a moment or two. "The current's getting through," he said at last, more to himself than to Danny, "but it's awfully weak. I don't know whether or not it's going to work."
"We'll just have to wait and...and pray," Danny said softly.
Larry stared at him questioningly, then picked up the small microphone and began to speak into it.
"SOS!" he said slowly. "SOS! We're at the wrecked plane on Iron Mountain. Condition desperate!"
Danny dropped silently onto the cold ground beside the plane. Silently, for he didn't want to interfere with Larry, Danny began to pray. He prayed for Joe who was suffering from shock and some sort of serious injury. He prayed for Larry with his twisted ankle and for Glen who was staying with Joe.
Danny didn't know how long he had been praying, but when he finally looked up, Larry was still talking slowly into the microphone, repeating the same words over and over again. At that instant Larry stopped abruptly and let the microphone slip from his fingers.
"What's the matter?" Danny demanded quickly. "What's wrong?"
"The batteries were weak to start with," Larry told him. "Now they're gone. The radio is dead!"
Larry was below them about forty feet on a two-foot wide ledge.