The child’s shrill voice reached the hardware merchant. There was poor Chet, staggering on, leaning against the wind, and pulling the sled behind him.
“Well, you silly chump!” growled Joseph Stagg. “Where’re you going, anyway?”
“Oh, Uncle Joe!” wailed Carolyn May, “he isn’t anything like that, at all! He’s just the very bravest boy! And he’s all wet and cold.”
At the conclusion of this declaration poor Chet fell to his knees, and then slipped quietly forward on his face.
“I vum!” grunted the hardware dealer, “I guess the boy is all in.”
But Chet did not lose consciousness. He raised a faint murmur which reached Mr. Stagg’s ears.
“I—I did the best I could, Mr. Stagg. Take—take her right up to mother. She’ll fix Car’lyn up, all right.”
“Say, kid!” exclaimed the cook, “I guess you need a bit of fixin’ up yourself. Why, see here, boys, this chap’s been in the water and his clothes is froze stiff.”
“Pick him up and put him on the sled here, boys,” Mr. Stagg said. “I’ll carry Hannah’s Car’lyn myself.”
The party, including the excited Prince, got back to the docks without losing any time and without further accident. Still the chapel bell was ringing, and somebody said: