"You poor darling," cried Miss Elting, gathering the terror-stricken
Tommy in her arms and staggering to the rear of the shelf, where she
placed the terrified girl on a blanket.
Harriet sat back where she was. She was breathing heavily from her
exertions, and further than this she admitted to herself that she was a
little faint. But not for worlds would she have her companions know
this.
"Better get back," advised the guide. "One is enough."
"Don't trouble about me. I will as soon as I get my breath. That was
a hard position in which to do any lifting."
"I reckon. I take off my hat to you, Miss Burrell. This outfit isn't
in such great need of a pilot. You could get along without me and
never miss me for a minute except when it comes to toting a pack, and
even then I guess you could do without me, especially if that young
lady threw a dish or so overboard after every meal," he added jocularly.
"Is there any wood?"
"Yes. There you are again. I never think of anything. I get lost
wondering what's going to happen next. You sit down. I'll attend to
the fire. It is cold.
Pages:
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152