“Better deal with the fellow now,” Bud decided.
He stopped his downward climb and waited until the guard had hauled him up to the window. They were almost face to face now-the guard perspiring and muttering angrily in Spanish.
“Looking for me, buster?” Bud’s right fist shot through the window, catching his foe squarely on the chin!
The guard let go the rope and staggered backward. Down shot the line! Bud barely had time to grab hold again with both hands before the rope tautened. A split second later came a sharp crack like a rifle report.
The braid had parted from the sudden shock of Bud’s weight!
Tom gasped, horrified, as he saw his friend plummet through the darkness.
Then he sucked in his breath with relief as he heard a crash of branches.
Evidently Bud had landed in a tree somewhere farther down the cliff slope.
Tom half slid, half scrambled toward the sound. By this time he could hear the shrill wail of an alarm siren from the fortress.
“Bud!” Tom called cautiously. “You okay?”
DOWN THE PRECIPICE) 131
He was in a clump of firs now. The next moment Tom exclaimed and stopped short as a figure landed with a thump almost in front of him.
“Right with you, pal!” It was Bud, on two feet and chuckling. He had dropped from the branches of the tree into which he had fallen.
“Thank goodness! You old space shark!” The boys exchanged a quick bear hug. “No broken bones?”
“Just minor lacerations. But I may be picking pine needles out of my hide for a while!”
Just then the two heard a noise from the fortress. “They’re opening the gate!”