“Look, folks,” Fran said impatiently, “if we’re to make the top and get down before dark, we have to leave in ten minutes.”
“I’m ready to leave as soon as you say,” Karl answered, “but I can’t speak for Marian. Look at her right sneaker. The sole has been flapping for the last hour. It’ll be off entirely any minute.”
They examined the sneaker and even Judy hadn’t the heart to gloat or to say, “We told you so.”
Marian lifted her head from the stone. “Please, all of you, go ahead without me. You’ll find me here when you get back. I’ll drink in the view. In fact, I’ll do anything but climb another foot of this mountain. Unfortunately, I’ll have to climb down!”
Mr. Lurie laughed. “Marian, you’ll feel better after you’ve eaten and rested a few minutes longer. You’ll get your second wind.”
“Second wind!” She moved uneasily to a different position. “I used that up long ago. What I need is a pair of bellows to keep my lungs going, to say nothing of a relay of fresh, untrodden feet!”
Judy too couldn’t help laughing. She sat down next to Marian and fed her pieces of orange. She put a sandwich in her hand and coaxed her to take a bite, then another, until it was finished.
“You’ll be all right, Marian. I have an idea. Father has some string in his knapsack. Fran can wind it around your sneaker to reinforce it so that it holds.”
“Please,” Marian pleaded, “all of you, go ahead and that includes Karl. I’ll sleep here peacefully with the birds and beasts—and mountains, and dream peacefully of a hotel room with a hot, steaming bath!”