“But we haven’t a shovel,” says Catty. “We haven’t anything.”
“Can’t we slip him out of his coat?” says I.
“Might if we had a derrick,” says Catty, “and if we had a yoke of oxen we might hitch to his shoulders and haul him through, coat or no coat.”
“For goodness sake, do something,” says Mr. Dunn. “I’m getting my mouth full of sand.”
I wanted to tell him he wouldn’t get sand in his mouth if he kept it shut, but that didn’t sound polite, and I didn’t mean it the way he’d think I did.
“Where’s your knife?” says I.
“Pocket,” says Catty.
“Slit his coat,” says I. “Cut him out of the wire like you’d cut out a fishhook that got stuck in your clothes.”
“Hum,” says Catty, “I s’pose that coat cost a lot of money, but it can’t be helped. Better lose a coat than your skin,” says he, and I guess Mr. Dunn agreed with him.
“Can’t see very well,” says Catty. “If I stick you let me know.”