Betty, looking among the stores in the cupboard, found a bottle of strong ammonia. This she carefully brought to the man's nostrils. His breathing became quicker, and soon he opened his eyes. Wonderingly he stared about him.
"What—what happened? Who are you—girls? Oh, I guess I must have keeled over. Mighty foolish of me. Oh, my leg!"
A spasm of pain shot over his face.
"Lie still," said Betty soothingly. "We will send for help. Here, drink this," and she held some water to his lips. He supported himself on his elbow, and drank greedily.
"First I had in a long time," he apologized huskily.
Mollie and Grace were making the fire, while Amy was washing out the pot, and putting some ground coffee in it. The stove was blazing well, and the kettle was put on to boil. The man drank some more water and seemed better.
"I slipped and fell coming home the other day," he explained. "I didn't think it was much more than a sprain at first, but the next morning I couldn't walk, and I knew my leg was broken. Then come this last big storm, and nobody passed here. I yelled for help until I was hoarse, but it did no good. I had about given up when you girls came along. I haven't been able to even crawl, the pain was so bad. I just had to keep covered up to prevent freezing."
"You'll soon be all right," said Betty soothingly. "We are making coffee."
"Yes, I can smell it. It's mighty good of you girls."
"You know who we are; don't you?" asked Mollie.