“We’ll sure come to un if we keeps goin’,” said Andy.
“Keep plenty o’ grit,” cheered David.
“Aye, plenty o’ grit—and a stout heart,” said Andy.
The wind was steadily increasing, and even now driving the snow down the river valley in suffocating clouds, but the two boys kept bravely on. Once Andy fell, and David helped him up, and a little later he stumbled and fell again, and again David helped him to his feet.
“I’m—wonderful—tired,” said Andy.
“’Tis wearisome work,” soothed David.
“’Tis growin’ night,” said Andy.
“Aye, ’tis growin’ night,” David admitted reluctantly.
Again and again Andy stumbled and fell, and presently David relieved him of his rifle and carried both his own and Andy’s.
“I’m—so—sleepy,” breathed Andy.