Emma eyed the boy a moment, then broke into gales of laughter. The hotel man, being a kindly soul, tried to suppress his amusement. But Emma’s laugh was irresistible, together with the boy’s woe-begone appearance, and he finally laughed unrestrainedly.
“I got here, didn’t I? What’s so funny about that?” blustered Chunky.
“Anyway, you’re not a ’fraid-cat—any more than I am. But, oh, how you look!” and again Emma laughed.
“How do we get out of here?” asked Stacy, largely to change the subject.
“You climb and clamber out, young man.”
Stacy turned fiercely to the hotel man.
“Do you mean that I’ve got to scramble up over those rocks to the top? It can’t be done!”
“It has been done over and over. It has to be done unless you wish to spend the rest of your life down here.”
Stacy groaned and Emma said:
“I don’t like the idea any too well myself. But what has to be, has to be. Come, little boy, let’s start.”