“Very possibly you were not,” Jim’s voice said. “Don’t lay all the blame on your parents; it seems to me more an acquired habit on your part.” His cheerful face came over the edge of a boulder, and peeped down upon her.
“ ’Tisn’t my fault at all!” said Jean, indignantly. “You know very well I hardly ever eat butter or potatoes, and I love them both. We’re all fat; and Dad and Mother are the fattest!”
“It must be the New Zealand air,” said Jim, regarding her with interest. “Perhaps, if we turned you out into a poor paddock for a while, you’d come down in condition. Not that I’d advise it, because we like you as you are—but I hate to see you worried.”
“Oh, don’t be an ass!” responded the harassed Jean. “This isn’t a time for polite conversation—I want to get over that horrid old rock. And I’m so hot!”
“Well, didn’t I hear your bleat of woe, and come back to help you, though I was making for the peak like the gentleman in ‘Excelsior,’ you ungrateful woman?” asked Jim. He swung his long legs over the boulder, and came scrambling down to where she stood. “Poor old thing! It’s pretty steep, isn’t it?”
“I’m not a poor old thing, and I won’t be pitied,” retorted Jean with indignation. “I haven’t got long legs like all of you, but I can climb hills, for all that. I only want a leg-up over this boulder.”
“Of course you do,” said Jim, in his best soothing manner—which was wont to have anything but a soothing effect. “Lend me your foot, Miss Yorke, and be prepared to put some spring into your portly frame. One, two, three—up you go!” He hoisted her deftly, and with a quick movement Jean had scrambled to the top of the rock.
It was one of a hundred similar sandstone boulders scattered over the side of the hill. Sometimes, by dodging through crevices and under jutting points of rock, it was possible to avoid them; but often they lay so thickly that to skirt them was impossible except by a detour too long to be practicable. There was not much vegetation to be seen. Grass was practically non-existent, but tough young gums grew here and there among the rocks, with twisted stems, finding a foothold in some mysterious manner by thrusting deep twining roots into the crevices. There leafage was too sparse and stunted to give any real shade, and the sun beat down with blinding force; though it was not yet noon, the rocks were hot under the touch.
Ahead, straggling forms could be seen pushing their way upward. Wally and Norah were in the lead, by virtue of long legs and tough muscles; then came Mr. Linton, with whom Jim had been climbing until he heard Jean’s small “bleat” of distress, and turned back to help her. The camp was far below: for a long time they had lost even the faint curl of the smoke of their fire, where Billy had been left disgustedly washing up the breakfast things, and with strict orders to remain on guard throughout the day.
Mr. Linton and the boys carried valises strapped across their shoulders, containing food and water. Already it had been found necessary to husband the latter, since climbing on such a day was thirsty work, and the supply of water bottles was not large. To brew tea at the Peak was considered out of the question; that was a luxury to be anticipated on getting back to the camp. Even now, Jean looked longingly at Wally’s diminishing burden, and solaced herself indifferently by chewing an exceedingly dry gum leaf, which tasted very strongly of eucalyptus, and made her, if anything, thirstier than before.