“Ba-back’s bruk, Bob!”
“Not so bad as that, old man.”
“Where’s father?”
“Coming up.”
Silence awhile, and then—
“Father! father! be quick, father!”
Mason reached the surface and came and knelt by the other side of the boy.
“I’ll, I’ll—why—run fur some brandy,” said Bob.
“No use, Bob,” said Isley. “I’m all bruk up.”
“Don’t yer feel better, sonny?”