To Mary the days that followed were strange beyond belief. The beauty of mountain sunshine on glistening snow, gray rocks, and black forests was entrancing. The sudden up-rushing of a storm, threatening as it did to destroy their only means of escape, was terrifying beyond words.
Many and many were the times that she wished that it might have been Florence who had been whirled off on this wild adventure instead of herself. “She is so much stronger than I,” she said to Mark. “She has seen so much more of life and seems so much older.”
“You had your first-aid lessons in school,” Mark said, a note of encouragement in his tone. “This is one grand opportunity for putting them into practice.”
“Sure,” Bill agreed, overhearing the conversation. “I’m so tough you couldn’t kill me off any way you try.”
“I won’t try to kill you off, Bill.” Mary’s tone was all too sober.
“I know, Mary,” Bill’s voice suddenly went husky. “You’re one grand gal. I don’t deserve half I get, big bum that I am.
“But say,” his voice dropped to a mere whisper, “perhaps I shouldn’t say it, but I wouldn’t have got it so bad if that fellow Peter Loome had done his part.”
“Done his part?” Mary stared.
“Sure. Don’t you know? He was with me. Had a powerful 30-40 rifle in his hands. Saw the bear come after me when I fired and what did he do but stand right still and laugh! Roared good and plenty as if it was all being done in the movies. When I yelled at him he did limber up and get in a shot or two. I never did make him out. Something loose in his make-up, I guess.”
“Something sure,” Mark agreed solemnly. Right then and there he wished Loome had not chanced to be one of the party.