Hervey's chance was the chance of a moment, and it lay just in this: in
getting far enough out on the branch before it broke to catch the branch
above before it sprang up and away from him. Also he must trust to the
slightly heavier branch above not breaking.
It would be impossible to say by what a narrow squeak he saved himself
in this dare-devil maneuver. His one chance lay in lightning agility.
Yet, first and last, it was an act of fine and desperate
recklessness--the recklessness of a soul possessed and set on one
dominating purpose. This was Hervey Willetts all over. And because he
had a brain and the eagle none or little, he thus used his very enemy to
help him accomplish his purpose.
In that very moment when Tom Slade heard with a shudder the appalling
sound of that splitting branch, something beside the brown nest was also
dangling from the branch which the baffled eagle had suddenly deserted.
Right close to the swaying nest the boy hung, his limbs encircling it,
his two hands locked upon it, trusting to it, just trusting to it. It
bent low in a great sweeping curve, the nest swayed and swung from the
movement of the swing downward, a little olive-colored, speckled head
peeking cautiously out as if to see what all the rumpus was about.
It must have seemed to those little frightened eyes that the familiar
geography of the neighborhood was radically changed. But there was
nothing near to strike terror to it now. There was nothing near but the
green, enshrouding foliage, and the brown object hanging almost
motionless close by.
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