"Only to give me a little mo'e water." He had already drunk a quart. He also pointed them to a certain spot, where they found Riley's rifle and its equipments, together with an ax and several gourds. These were transferred to the raft; and Harold said, "Come, Sam, tell us how we can help you. The sun is fast going down, and we have a long way to go. Mary and Frank don't wish to be left in the dark, and are no doubt looking for us to start."
"De childun! Bless 'em!" said Sam. "I do want to see dey sweet face once mo 'e. But I 'fraid it will kill me to move. See how my arm and leg swell a'ready."
After much demurring, Sam consented to attempt the removal; and though he groaned and shuddered at the thought, it was effected with far less pain than he expected. They spread his blanket beside him, helped him into the middle of it, lapped and pinned its edges over a strong pole with splinters of cedar, and taking each an end of the pole, lifted him gently from the ground, and bore him at full length to the raft, where they had previously prepared a couch of moss.
The sun sunk into the waters ere they had gone half a mile; but the boys pulled with a hearty good will, and moreover with the advantage of a little wind in their favour. It was dark when they landed, or rather, dark as it could be with a bright moon nearly at the full. Robert took occasion while at the helm to re-load his two barrels with powder, and repeat the signal agreed upon. As the darkness deepened they could see afar off the figures of Mary and Frank standing upon the beach, before a fire which they had made as a guide to the voyagers, and listening apparently to every thump of the oars. Long before words could be distinguished, Frank's clear voice rang over the waters in a tone of inquiry. The two boys united their voices at a high musical pitch, and sung out, "Sam! Sam!" repeating it at intervals until they perceived from the tones of the children on shore that the name had been heard. Presently Frank's voice shouted shrilly, "Howdy, Sam?" Poor Sam tried to answer, but his voice was too weak. Robert and Harold answered for him. Mary would have called out too; but the truth is she was crying for joy, and was not able to utter a word.
CHAPTER XVIII
NIGHT LANDING--CARRYING A WOUNDED PERSON--SETTING ONE'S OWN LIMBS WHEN BROKEN--SPLINTING A LIMB--REST TO THE WEARY
It was a picturesque scene as the raft drew near shore. The soft moonlight upon the bluff--the faint sparkle of the briny water broken by the oars--the lurid light from the resinous fire--the dark shadows and excited movements of Mary and Frank--formed altogether a group worthy of a painter's skill.
Frank could scarcely be restrained from rushing through the water to welcome the new comer; but when he heard how weak he was, and in what bad condition, he waited in quietness. Harold took him in his arms, and Robert made a stepping place for Mary with the oars, and they both shook hands with the poor fellow, and told him how sorry they were to see him so badly hurt.
Leaving Harold and Frank at the raft, Robert and Mary hastened to the tent to prepare a place for the invalid, that he need not be disturbed after being once removed. They lit a candle, piled the trunks in a corner of the room, and taking most of the moss that constituted their beds, laid it in another corner, remarking, "We can easily obtain more; or we can even sleep on the ground tonight, if necessary, for his sake."
"I wish we had an old door, or even a plank long enough for him to lie upon, as we bring him from the raft," said Robert, "it would be so much easier to his broken bones, if they could be kept straight. But the blanket is next best, and with that we must be content."