“Reckon I understand, Thad,” said Step Hen, starting to follow out directions.
“And you, Giraffe, hold the light so both of us can see,” continued Thad. “There, steady now. All ready. Step Hen?”
“Sure.”
“Then push down hard and steady. There she comes!”
Allan had taken hold of the jaws of the old bear trap, and no sooner did the pressure exerted by the two side springs cease, than he was able to push them wide apart.
He immediately snatched his leg out of the trap, and no sooner had he done so than he rolled over on the ground.
“Oh! my stars!” exclaimed Step Hen, “he’s hurt more’n he knows of. What if he’s got a broken leg? Wouldn’t we be in a nice pickle though?”
“It isn’t so bad as that, boys,” said Allan, who was feeling of the calf of his leg as he lay on his back, “though it hurts quite some. But help me up, Thad, and we’ll get to the fire. By the time I’ve used my leg a little, and you get some of that magic liniment soaked on the spot, I guess I’ll make out, and be able to start when the rest of you do.”
Allan was full of pluck. Moreover, he was an unusually hardy boy, for he had always spent a good part of his time outdoors; and there is nothing more calculated to build up a lad’s system than that.
He limped some, of course, as he headed toward the fire; but when Allan put those firm lips of his tightly together, nothing of an ordinary character at least, could force him to groan, or even admit that he suffered.