"Hallo-o-o-o!"
Fanny sat up, helloing shrilly, hysterically. She got to
her feet, staggeringly. And Clarence Heyl walked toward
her.
"You ought to be spanked for this," he said.
Fanny began to cry weakly. She felt no curiosity as to his
being there. She wasn't at all sure that he actually was
there, for that matter. At that thought she dug a frantic
hand into his arm. He seemed to understand, for he said,
"It's all right. I'm real enough. Can you walk?"
"Yes." But she tried it and found she could not. She
decided she was too tired to care. "I stumbled over a
thing--a horrible thing--a gravestone. And I must have hurt
my leg. I didn't know----"
She leaned against him, a dead weight. "Tell you what,"
said Heyl, cheerfully. "You wait here. I'll go on down to
Timberline Cabin for help, and come back."
"You couldn't manage it--alone? If I tried? If I tried to
walk?"
"Oh, impossible." His tone was brisk. "Now you sit right
down here." She sank down obediently. She felt a little
sorry for herself, and glad, too, and queer, and not at all
cold.
Pages:
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528