Mark rowed out in their small home-made skiff.
“I’m on an errand of mercy,” the man explained at once, “and I’m going to need some help. Just received a message by short-wave radio that some men are in trouble up in the mountains.”
“Hunters?” Mark suggested.
“Yes.”
“In a blue and gray plane?” Mary’s dark eyes widened. How about Bill, she was thinking. Despite his shortcomings, Bill held a large place in slender Mary’s heart.
“Any—any one hurt?” she asked.
“One of the hunters has been badly handled by a bear,” the man went on. “Something’s gone wrong with their motor, too. They can’t bring him out.”
“Bear?” said Mark. “That’s sure to be Bill. He’d march right up and shoot a bear in the eye.”
“Yes—yes, it must be Bill,” Mary exclaimed, striving in vain to control her emotions. “We must do something to help him. What can we do?” Months shut away from the outside world had drawn their little company close together. Bound by bonds of friendship and mutual understanding, despite the faults of some, they were very close to one another.
“You can help a great deal,” said the pilot, “that is,” he hesitated, “if you’re willing to take a chance.”