“It’s got us sure!” he yelled, grabbing at Jimmy and pulling him between him and the blaze to give himself that much protection.
“For the love of Pete, let go of me,” growled Jimmy, as he yanked himself away, in disgust at Buck’s cowardice. “Don’t make a fire screen out of me.”
“Oh, why did I ever come up into these woods?” moaned Buck.
“Chiefly because Bob gave you a licking,” Herb muttered to himself, his sense of humor not wholly subdued even by the peril he was in.
Buck made a grab at Joe.
“Do you think there is any hope?” he whined. “Oh, don’t tell me that there isn’t any hope!”
Joe shrugged his shoulders.
“Search me,” he said curtly. Then, as he looked at the abject creature, he could not help feeling some pity for him despite the contempt he had for him, and added more gently: “Of course there’s hope. Brace up, Buck, and get a grip on yourself. We’re worth a dozen dead men yet.”
“Dead men!” repeated Buck. “Oh, don’t speak of death! I don’t want to die!”
“I guess none of us does,” remarked Bob kindly. “Now, Buck, try to calm down. You see that the water is putting out those blazing branches, and we’re getting out now into the middle of the lake. I guess we’ll pull through all right.”