“If you can stub along on one foot,” he suggested, “we can make better progress by hugging each other. I can stand it if you can.”
A quick laugh answered him. The light veered back, revealing dancing eyes, perfect teeth, and flushed cheeks under the glowing hair.
“I can stand ’most anything—if I have to,” she flashed. “And it looks like I’d have to.”
“By George! Young lady, you’re a little beauty when you laugh! I think I’m going to enjoy this trip. Wait a minute and I’ll let you put your arm around my neck.”
Followed the grind of boot-soles and the approach of the lamp.
“You’re awful good.” She laughed again. “You’d ought to sell soft soap for a livin’, you’ve got so much of it.”
“Humph! That’ll do. Now let’s walk.”
Slowly the white eye wobbled along among the tumbled blocks. The only sounds behind it were those of labored breathing and curt directions regarding the placing of feet. Not once did the girl whimper from the pain of the injured ankle.
Presently the pair of tall cliff-chunks took shape ahead, their bases lost among smaller stones, their crests invisible in the upper gloom, their irregular sides framing a narrow black cañon which seemed to end in emptiness. But out from that gloomy slit drifted a tang of smouldering wood-smoke; and beyond it, the girl knew, the hidden camp of her unknown rescuer waited.
At the entrance to the covert they paused. So narrow was the passage that they could no longer advance side by side. But the carbide flame showed that the footing ahead was smooth and almost level, offering no obstacle to her progress alone; also, that the distance to the cavern beyond was hardly more than a couple of rods.