“Are you badly done for?” cried Ed, making his way to the side of his friend.
“No, indeed,” George assured him, and he tried to coax a smile to his pallid face. “I’m only scraped a little and pretty sore. But say, I’m glad it’s all over!”
“Come over here and let me feel you,” Ben commanded.
He proceeded to examine him carefully for broken bones or dislocations, and, failing to find evidences of either, the guide gave a loud whoop of delight.
“You’re tough as nails, young fellow; I wouldn’t care about taking that slide myself.”
“But look at the snowshoes!” said George, sadly, as he exhibited the mass of dangling thongs.
“We’ll patch them up all right,” Ben promised.
“And where is my rifle?” asked the shaken young hunter.
“Right here,” said Ed, handing it to him.
“And the bear-skin; what about that?” inquired George, looking up the steep grade down which he had so lately tumbled.