The strength of the stimulant burned Phil’s throat, causing him to gag and sputter, and as Joy led forth the two horses, he opened his eyes.
“Here, take another dose. Can’t have you going off again before we know what’s wrong. ’Twould be a waste of time that must be precious seeing—”
“No, I’m all right,” murmured the boy, sitting up. “It’s Ted. I set off the dynamite too soon. I yelled to Ted, but he didn’t c-come. O-o-h!” and again Phil fell back in a swoon at the evident thought that he had killed his brother.
Horrified at the words, father and daughter looked at one another and then at the prostrate boy.
“You go, Pap. I couldn’t stand it to see—anything,” she finished lamely.
“Give him another dose from this,” he began, only to check himself and say, “No, you’d better let him sleep till I get back, if he will.” And running to his horse, he climbed onto his back and galloped toward E 1.
Having closed his eyes when he found himself in the twisting, whirling mass of earth and brush, Ted lay perfectly still for several moments after he felt himself strike. As the roar in his ears subsided, however, he moved first one arm, then the other and finally his legs. Finding, to his surprised delight, that he could do so without pain, he shoved the tangle of brush away from him, sat up, rested a moment, then got to his feet, and gazed about him.
“‘Jumping elk!’ as Steve says, but that charge sure did clear some space!” Then his scattered wits returning, he bethought himself of his brother and yelled: “Phil, oh, Phil!”
When no answering hail came to him, he started to run only to stop, his face twisted in pain.
“Feels as though a million needles were sticking into me,” he murmured to himself. And again he felt of his arms, legs, and body. “Nothing broken,” he finally announced. “Must have been the shock of moving after landing so suddenly. Seems to me I’ve read something like it—a man who was blown up described.”