Mackintosh was a man of the world, whose experience enabled him to be a good judge of character. And he well knew the sort of counsel that would inevitably stir all that was best in the boy and lend strength to his pluck. He judged rightly, for immediately Alf straightened himself with set lips, steady eyes, and controlled nerves.
"Forgive me," he said quietly. "But it knocked me over to think of Bob—out there."
"I'm no' blaming you, laddie. But you'll need all your strength now, for I think that your friend is past helping himself—or nearly." Then Mackintosh faced the muskeg, and called loudly.
"Hullo! Bob! Can you hear me?"
Very slowly the eyelids were seen to open, the head moved slightly.
"Can you hold out for a bit longer? Can you get a coat under your arms if I send it to you?" were the next questions.
The boy did not answer at once. He seemed dazed, and the man repeated his questions.
Then came the answer, spoken weakly and with an apparent great effort.
"I'll try. But—come—quickly——" And the eyes half closed again.
"That's right. Hold on for a wee bit, and we'll have you oot o' that mess in a jiffy!"