“Ugh! Big walk tomorrow. Very far. Very fast,” and Ahmik grinned.
“Goodness!” exclaimed Paul. “If we have to walk any farther or faster tomorrow than we did today, I’ll just collapse. I’m so stiff now I can hardly move.”
“That’s always the case for a day or two when a fellow starts out for the first time on snowshoes and does a full day’s work. It won’t last long, but we’ll take it a little slower tomorrow, to let you get hardened to it,” Amesbury consoled.
When they stopped to boil the kettle the following day Paul was scarcely able to lift his feet from the snow. Sharp pains in the calves of his legs and in his hips and groins were excruciating, and he sat down upon his toboggan very thankful for the opportunity to rest.
“How is it? Pretty tired?” asked Amesbury, good-naturedly.
“A little stiff—and tired,” answered Paul, whose pride would not permit him to admit how hard it was for him to keep up.
“We’ll take a little easier gait this afternoon. I didn’t realize we were hitting it off so hard as we were this morning.”
“Thank you.” Paul wished to say “Don’t go slow on my account,” but he realized how utterly impossible it would be for him to keep the more rapid pace.
When luncheon was disposed of and they again fell into line, the pain was so intense that he could scarcely restrain from crying out. But he kept going, and saying to himself:
“I won’t be a quitter. I won’t be a quitter.” He began to lag wofully, however, in spite of his determination and grit, and the slower pace which Amesbury had set. Thus they traveled silently on for nearly an hour, when all at once Amesbury stopped, held up his hand as a signal to the others to halt and remain quiet. Dropping his toboggan rope he stole stealthily forward and was quickly lost to view.