"Take hold of my hair and hold on tight!" he called out.
His thick coat was being blown all about, and Barty's curly hair was streaming straight out behind him. The wind made such a noise that they could hardly hear each other's voices. The waves off the shore were rolling and breaking on the beach with a sound like thunder.
"It's getting worse," gasped the Good Wolf. "Hold on to me and we will push as hard as we can until we get to the top."
"Th-this is a t-t-tropical storm," Barty panted.
"Do you wish you were at home?" the Good Wolf managed to ask before the wind blew his breath away.
"It is getting worse," gasped the Good Wolf
"N-no-not yet," Barty managed to shout back, almost without any breath at all. "I s-said a desert island."