“I speak for the little bay leader,” said Jenkyns.
“Shut up, won’t you, fellows!” called Planter from below. “This isn’t a time for nonsense.”
“May as well laugh as cry,” returned Webster. “There’s Marchmont whimpering in the corner.”
“It’s a bad job,” concluded Mr. Leighton, after his inspection—a conclusion which every one else had drawn at first sight.
Jim was brought around to give his opinion.
“That sled’s done for,” he pronounced with solemnity.
“Can it be cobbled up so that we can get home?” asked the teacher.
Jim shook his head. “I don’t know nothin’ to do to it; I ain’t no wheelwright.”
Mr. Leighton was visibly excited. “We must do something. We can’t stay here all night, and we can’t walk home.”
“I think I can fix it up so that we can get home in it,” said Laughlin. “I’ve got out of worse holes than this down in the Maine woods.”