Chunky's howls grew more lusty as the pack was jerked from his body.
"Are you hurt?" begged Cale.
"I'm killed! I'm killed!"
"You are pretty noisy for a dead man. Let's see how badly you are hurt."
"That tree fell right-right across me."
"It wasn't a tree. Charlie John dropped his pack on you," the guide informed him.
"He did, eh?" cried Stacy, sitting up.
"Yes, but he didn't see you. You were lying here in the shadow. Perhaps I am the one to blame. I told him to drop his pack over here, not thinking that you were there."
"Why don't you folks finish me in a decent way, if you are so anxious to get rid of me?" demanded the fat boy, dropping over on his back and commencing to moan again.
"Here you, stop that nonsense!" commanded Tad Butler, grabbing Stacy and jerking him to his feet. "Any fellow who can raise a rumpus like that isn't hurt at all. So this is Charlie John, is it?"