It was then she discovered something that Burd had valiantly kept from them up to that time. He limped, and one foot seemed to drag painfully behind him.
“Burd, you are hurt!” she cried, in quick concern. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“It isn’t anything,” the young fellow assured her, trying to summon up his old cheerful grin. “Caught my ankle in the root of a tree this morning and took a pretty header. Serves me right for not watching my step.”
“Oh, but that is dreadful, Burd!” cried Amy, forgetful momentarily of their danger, and even of Darry, in sympathy for him. “You must have been in agony, dragging all these miles with a sprained ankle.”
“Just wrenched, that’s all. Don’t worry about it,” said Burd, limping on. But the girls saw that his mouth was set in a straight line and his eyes were clouded with pain.
Fol and Nell were already out of sight. Fol knew nothing of Burd’s plight, or he would, of course, have stayed to help him.
Back of them there was a distant crackling sound, the pungent odor of burning wood filled their nostrils, choking them.
Jessie gave a quick glance over her shoulder and caught her breath. A thin fork of red had rent for a moment the curtain of smoke. The fire was gaining on them!
“Lean on me, Burd, do,” she said, breathlessly. “Amy will take the other side, and we can help you. That’s the way.”
Some new and urgent quality in her voice caused Burd also to look behind. He shut his eyes and groaned.