“The haunted mill!” cried Alice. “Were you there, Natalie Fuller?”
“I was. Oh, Blake, my dear, don’t try to lift me out until I straighten my foot! Oh!” and she shrank back with pain, for Blake had gotten into the boat and was endeavoring to lift her out.
“Give me a hand here, you fellows,” he ordered somewhat roughly, but they knew how he felt.
“No, no, Blake, really!” begged Natalie after a moment. “If you wait I can get up by myself, and then, if you let me lean on your shoulder I can manage to hobble to the tent, I think. It isn’t so bad, really.”
He watched her carefully as she got in position. Then as she bore a slight weight on the sprained ankle he saw her sway. The next moment he had caught her in his arms.
“She’s fainted!” he exclaimed. “I’ll carry her up to the tent,” and he took her out on shore and hurried toward the canvas shelter.
CHAPTER XXVII
AWAITING THE GHOST
“Wasn’t it silly of me to go off that way?”
“Do you feel all right now?”