Mr. Leighton turned eagerly toward him: “Can you? How?”
“By rigging a temporary runner. We passed a house a little way back, where the dog barked at us. If some one will go back with me, we can probably get something to block the sled up with. The rest of you had better get into the barge and keep warm.”
It was a despairing man indeed who could fail to gain courage from this sturdy giant, with his honest face and quiet, confident voice.
“I’ll go with you,” cried half a dozen at once.
Laughlin glanced at the half dozen, and took Lindsay. Why he did this, of course he did not explain, and it did not occur to Wolcott even to ask himself the question. He strode along at Laughlin’s side, silent and curious, but having no doubt as to the outcome.
With the assistance of the barking dog they woke the farmer, who put his head out the window and demanded what was wanted.
“We’ve broken a sled runner, and want a couple of poles to patch up with,” said Laughlin. “Can you lend us an axe?”
“There’s an axe at the woodpile by the shed,” answered the farmer, as he hurriedly closed the window.
Laughlin pulled out the axe from a log, gave the lantern to Wolcott, and selected two sticks from the pile of sled-length wood. One of these, a smooth hardwood pole, was perhaps ten feet long and two or three inches in diameter at its larger end. The other was much shorter and thicker. He cut out a notch a few inches from the end of the short piece and another near the middle of the longer one. By this time the farmer appeared at the shed door, shivering in overcoat and top-boots.
“Have you an auger handy?” asked Laughlin.