Larry set the frying pan down beside the fire, and came in and stood before the old man with his arms akimbo, scanning the old fellow’s immobile face. For a moment or two they faced each other, neither of them speaking and both looking very serious. Larry was puzzled but determined.
“Now see here, Martin,” he began, “you don’t really suppose that you are going to be able to travel to-morrow, do you?”
“I certainly do,” the old man replied without relaxing a muscle; “and what’s more to the point, I’m going to!”
“But Martin,” Larry protested, “how do you expect that your leg which is so sore you can’t even move it to-day, will be so you can walk on it to-morrow?”
“I don’t,” Martin replied.
“Then how do you suppose you are going to stumble on through these woods mile after mile,” Larry persisted.
“Who said anything about stumbling through these woods, or any other woods?” the old hunter asked, with a twinkle in his eye. “You shouldn’t jump to conclusions, Larry.” And he chuckled at the boy’s discomfiture.
Larry gave a defiant toss of his head and returned to his frying pan. “Kim and Jack and I are going to eat our breakfast now,” he announced with a grin. “Perhaps you can beg some breakfast too when you are ready to tell me what you are driving at.”
“All right,” Martin capitulated; “I’m too hungry to be stubborn. Bring on the breakfast and we’ll talk while we eat. I’ve been thinking this thing all out during the night, and here it is:
“We’re going to travel to-morrow, but I intend to ride. I am going to have you pack me on the sled with a few days’ stock of food, and get Kim and Jack to haul me. You can come along as escort, if you care to. In fact if you don’t care to I shan’t go, and we’ll spend the winter here and starve, instead of going back to the yacht to get fat.”