"Cale fell down!" shouted Stacy Brown.
Tad Butler sprang up and ran out where they had dressed the moose.
"What is the matter?" cried the lad. "Ah, you're hurt, Mr. Vaughn?"
The guide was sitting on the ground with both hands clasped about his left ankle. His face was drawn and pained.
"Did you turn the ankle?" asked Tad solicitously.
"Yes. If it isn't worse than that I shall be in great luck."
"How did it happen?"
"I slipped from a round stone that somebody had put in front of the stretcher there."
"Chunky, was that your work?"
The fat boy shamefacedly admitted it was.