"Keep your distance!" he cried, at the top of his lungs. "Keep your distance. Below there! help!"
"You be still!" growled the Norwegian. "I no hurt you. You go—"
A gust of wind swallowed up the words which followed. Again the Columbia went over, caught short in the swell under her. The topmast dipped thirty feet or more to leeward, and Larry made a tight clutch on the cross-tree, only to find himself shoved rudely off.
His right hand held the gasket he had been tying up, and that was all. Over rolled the ship again, and now his body swung clear into the air, supported only by that slender, plaited rope, which was old and not above snapping without warning. Beneath him was the churning sea, above him the slender topmast and the dark and angry sky. He shuddered and was tempted to close his eyes, but could not.
"You let go!" came from Olan Oleson, and he caught hold of the gasket as if to shake Larry from it.
"Don't!" gasped the boy. "Oh, you villain! don't!"
