“Where can we take you, or what can we do for you?” asked Jack briskly.
“Nothin’.”
“That’s ridiculous! You can’t stay here. Could you walk as far as the wagon if we helped you?”
“Can try.”
With the aid of Jack and Desiré, one on either side, he managed to get up. One or two promptly stifled groans broke from him, and he swayed precariously as he tried to stand.
“One foot’s no good,” he muttered, holding it up and throwing all his weight on the other.
“You two children go back and get into your places in the wagon,” ordered Jack. “Push your stools as close to the front seat as you can.”
Reluctantly they obeyed, hanging over the seat to watch the little procession. Slowly, painfully, stopping often to rest, the injured man was finally helped as far as the wagon.
“Lean on the wheel a minute,” directed Jack, “so my sister can get things fixed for you.”
Desiré opened the back doors, pushed the tent as far to the side as it would go, and arranged a couple of blankets on the floor.