Twelve numbed and snow-covered figures stumbled into the room. Two of the men were half carrying one of the girls.
“Fire up quick, Frank, we’re most frozen! And get some hot water!” Sherm exclaimed, suiting the action to the word by stirring up the coals of the dying fire and piling on wood.
It was not until a half hour later when they were warmed and fed, that the Mortons had time to listen to any connected account of the night’s adventures. Frank had speedily summoned his father to prescribe for frosted cheeks and fingers and toes. Later, it was discovered that John Hardy had a badly sprained wrist. Marian and Mrs. Morton made the girls comfortable and finished preparing the belated oyster supper.
“I am glad we didn’t lose this oyster supper altogether,” said Grant Stowe feelingly. “I never tasted anything better.”
“Same here,” a half dozen laughing voices echoed.
336“I wasn’t so darned sure an hour ago that some of us were ever going to taste anything again,” said John Hardy soberly.
“Things didn’t look exactly rosy, specially when we got spilled out,” one of the girls added.
“What, did you have an upset?” Dr. Morton looked as if this were the last straw.
“Yes, that’s how Hardy sprained his wrist!”
“Chicken Little had just assured us that if we would drive a little farther west, we should surely find something, when we struck the sidehill and went over as neat as you please.” Mamie enjoyed this thrust at Jane.