“We’ll take him across to Oscar Dansk’s house, there beyond the ravine,” Hugh said.
Dick hesitated, stammered and flushed.
“I promised—” he began.
“Whatever you promised,” Hugh interrupted him, “you will not be asking for help from Oscar Dansk. He is not there.”
“Where is he?”
“Out in the woods—looking for you.”
Dick shook his head slowly.
“That beats me,” he said. “I always thought poor Johnny was wrong about Oscar. I never really understood about that quarrel myself. And lately John was too sick to know quite what he did think, and he made me promise over and over, when he knew that we might be somewhere near where Oscar lived, that I would not go to him for help. They are both so obstinately proud. But I can see for myself that the only thing now is to do as you say. I should like to know how you ever got here, Hugh, and about a hundred other things, but we won’t spend time on explanations just yet. I suppose we can make a stretcher of blankets and carry him between us somehow.”
Their preparations were quickly made. John Edmonds, still unconscious, was lifted to the rude litter they had constructed, and was carried out of the cabin. They had covered him well against the wind and rain, but the journey would be a perilous one for him, none the less. Slowly, and with frequent pauses, they got him across the clearing and down the hill to the stream, then along its bank to where the fallen tree still held its place. With the decreasing of the furious rain the flood had dropped a little, so that to-day the whole of the rude bridge was out of water. How they got across, Hugh did not ever quite know. The tree swayed and shook more than it had done before, for the water had undermined the banks and made the frail support even more uncertain. They worked their way across, holding their burden high between them, and breathed a monstrous sigh of relief when at last they were on firm ground again. Nicholas would not trust their way of crossing, but swam over, with much difficulty, and was waiting for them on the other shore.
They were a tired and breathless pair when they had finally carried Edmonds up the steep trail and into Oscar’s cottage. Most eagerly, as they approached the house, did Hugh look for some sign of his friend’s return. But the door and the windows were closed, the chimney smokeless, there was no one there. Only Hulda greeted them with an impatient call and loud stampings on the floor of her shed, to signify her indignation at having been forgotten so long. Hugh did not stop for any vain wonderings.