“Well, that's a good beginning, anyhow,” remarked the engineer, standing back and looking critically at the finished work.
“I don't see why we shouldn't make a fairly comfortable home out of this, for a while. It's not too high for ease, and it's high enough for safety--to keep prowling bears and wolves and--and other things from exploring us in the night.”
He laughed, but memories of the spear-head tinged his merriment with apprehension. “In a day or two I'll make some kind of an outer door, or barricade. But first, I need that ax and some other things. Can you spare me for a while, now?”
“I'd rather go along, too,” she answered wistfully, from the window-sill where she sat resting.
“No, not this time, please!” he entreated. “First I've got to go 'way to the top of the tower and bring down my chemicals and all the other things up there.
“Then I'm going out on a hunt for dishes, a lamp, some oil and no end of things. You save your strength for a while; stay here and keep house and be a good girl!”
“All right,” she acceded, smiling a little sadly. “But really, I feel quite able to go.”
“This afternoon, perhaps; not now. Good-by!” And he started for the door. Then a thought struck him. He turned and came back.
“By the way,” said he, “if we can fix up some kind of a holster, I'll take one of those revolvers. With the best of this leather here,” nodding at the Gladstone bag, “I should imagine we could manufacture something serviceable.”
They planned the holster together, and he cut it out with his knife, while she slit leather thongs to lash it with. Presently it was done, and a strap to tie it round his waist with--a crude, rough thing, but just as useful as though finished with the utmost skill.