“I—I can’t look at them,” he gasped.
Bob threw an arm over his shoulders.
“You and Jack stay here,” he ordered, gruffly. “I had no hand in this. I’m the fellow to attend to it. Wait for me.”
At that Frank protested, and started to proceed. But Bob shoved him back, kindly but firmly.
“The pair of you have been through enough,” he said. “Do as I say. Wait here.”
And with quick, firm step, keeping himself to the task, he plunged on through the trees. For a moment or two both Frank and Jack watched him fascinatedly, then Frank sank down to a sitting position, elbows propped on his knees, his face in his hands. Jack faced about, and stared unseeing through the trees.
Presently, Bob’s solid, crunching footsteps could be heard approaching, and they looked up. His face was grave, but unflinching.
“Look here, fellows,” he said, firmly, “may as well face the facts. All four were killed instantly. Drilled through the—— But why discuss it? The fact is, they’re dead. They were rascals of the first water, and, as you say, it was their lives or ours. Self-preservation is the first law of Nature. Now, what are we going to do about it? We haven’t any tools to dig with.”
Frank shook himself into alertness.
“Let’s get the axes—our outfit has some—and cut off some spruce boughs and cover them over. Then we can roll some stones on top.”