There was something almost tragic about this rescue of a man who that very day had rescued all of them.
"Well," said Andy, always the first to recover, "it's over. Let's not think about it. Here we are, almost at the grove, and by jiminy, day's breaking."
And so it was. Dawn was chasing the moon, and daylight was only a matter of a quarter or half an hour.
They entered the grove and sat down. Andy bound a handkerchief tightly about Don's strained leg, and they discussed their plans for the immediate future.
"Well," said Fred, in the midst of this, "we know there's no road or human habitation in that direction," indicating from whence they had just come. "I suggest that our next effort be over there."
He pointed toward a gently rising slope to the north, and even as they looked the increasing daylight showed them that there lay what seemed to be a rough and seldom-used road.
"Right," said Jack. "That little jaunt of mine was rather tiring: Give me about fifteen or twenty minutes more and we'll see what we can discover out there."
They sat about chatting for another quarter of an hour. Then, Jack indicating that he felt fit, they took one more survey to make sure that the plane was still riding safely where they had anchored it the night before, and made ready to explore the unpromising road, in the hope of finding fellow human beings and perhaps breakfast. For by this time they felt nearly starved.