"Well, it's something," said Johnny in glum resignation. "Hasn't the fool that built it any food?"
Vigorously he poked about the tiny place, then emerged to report in disgust, "Not a darn thing. . . . Oh, well, it's a shelter, anyway."
The incredible idea pierced Maria Angelina that he was going to pause there for rest.
"Oh, we must go on," she insisted.
"Go on?" He turned to stare in indignation at the girl who had gasped that at him. "Go on? In this dark? When it's going to rain? Why, you're nearly all in, now."
"Indeed—indeed, I am not all in," she protested. "It is not necessary for me to rest—not necessary at all. I am quite strong. I want only to go on—to go to the Lodge——"
"We'll never make the Lodge to-night. We'll have to camp here the best way we can."
It seemed to her that she could hardly have heard him. It was so incredible a thought—so overwhelming——
A queer gulping sound came from her throat. Her words fell without her volition, like spent breaths.
"But that is wrong. We cannot stay. We cannot stay like that——"