“We ought to have had alpenstocks,” said Hartley.
“What’s the matter with cutting some now?” said Ran. “We’ll really need them more going down than coming up. There are plenty of saplings about.” He drew his knife from his pocket and began to hack away at one of the slim, straight, young trees close by.
Hartley followed suit, but the loose stones upon the sloping side of the spot where he was standing made a precarious footing, and in his exertions the stones gave way causing his knife to slip and give him an ugly gash across his left hand, nearly severing one of his finger-tips.
Jo was the first to perceive the accident and she ran to Hartley’s side. He was bleeding profusely. Jo whipped off the tin cup hanging from her belt. “Here,” she called out sharply. “Somebody get some water, quick.”
Daniella grabbed the cup and rushed off. There was a small trickling stream near by to which she hurried. Effie, meantime, had come up and turned sick and faint at the sight of the blood covering her brother’s hand. “Oh, Hartley,” she quavered, “is it very bad?”
“He has about cut off the end of one of his fingers, that’s all,” said Jo. “Don’t faint, Effie,” she added commandingly, seeing Effie turn as white as a sheet. “Hartley has to be attended to; we can’t hold you up, too.” She had already clapped the end of the finger back in place and had wrapped her handkerchief around it to stop the bleeding. Presently Daniella came hurrying back with the water with which Jo carefully washed the wound, then diving into her pocket she drew forth a small case. “Can you stand a few stitches?” she asked Hartley. “We haven’t any plaster, you see, and it may save you further trouble.”
“I’ll stand it,” said Hartley grimly, though he winced and set his teeth when Jo, after threading her needle, took several stitches in the severed flesh.
“There,” she said, “you stood it like a soldier. A clean handkerchief, if any one has it. Mine is about used up. I hope you don’t mind my tearing it,” she said as Effie produced hers.
“As if Hartley’s comfort wasn’t worth a dozen handkerchiefs,” replied Effie who had recovered her composure.
Jo made a neat bandage, sewed it firmly on and pronounced the operation over.