“Why didn’t you choose a warmer spot?” Alec was shivering.
Sarah jumped up. “Let’s go inside and make a fire—the chimney’s all right.”
They gathered dried wood and underbrush, Alec produced matches, and they soon had a bright fire roaring and leaping in the fireplace, that took up nearly all of one side of the little cabin.
Sitting on the floor before it in a semi-circle, they told stories in turn, beginning with Sarah.
Suddenly Alec, who had been strangely silent for some moments, keeled quietly over in a little heap.
In a moment Sarah, kneeling beside him, had lowered him gently, until his head rested on the cabin floor. “It’s only a faint,” she said, her hand on his wrist; “he’s overtired, and his heart isn’t very strong. But I think he ought to have a doctor. Where could we catch your father, Kitty?”
“He was going out on the mill road—he’s due at Nesbit’s farm about five.”
“It’s nearly five now,” Debby said, looking at her watch.
“I’ll go right over there,” Kitty offered; “I’ll be as quick as possible, but it’s a rough road.”
“If only one of you could ride over—on Victor?” Sarah said anxiously. “Oh, Blue Bonnet, you must ride—all Western girls do, don’t they? Ride all sorts of horses?”