“Thank God, we got here in time!” Captain Clarke ejaculated fervently, raising Marian’s head and dashing water in her face to restore her.
“We’re so shut in by the timber at our place, I didn’t dream the fire was in this part of the country till one of the hands went up in the pasture. We mounted and came double quick, I tell you. And we’d have got here quicker, if I’d known what straits 314you were in. You’re a plucky lot! Easy there, Mrs. Morton, you are all right, and the fire is safe to smoke out at its leisure. Here, drink a drop of this whiskey.”
Sherm had gathered up Chicken Little and carried her beyond the smoke, then dropped down beside her with a sigh to recover his breath. He felt numb and so dazed he hardly heeded what the Captain was saying.
“Pretty well done for, yourself, aren’t you, lad?” one of the men inquired. “You sure knew exactly what to do, if you are a tenderfoot.”
Sherm roused himself enough to twist the corners of his mouth into his wonted smile.
“Me? I didn’t do anything–Chicken Little was the boss of this gang.”
