“The first thing we have to do is to get back to the cabin,” Wee Willie suggested.
“You’ve said it,” Elmer admitted, “and suppose you get busy with that good hatchet of yours, so we can make a temporary litter.”
“Leave that to me,” chuckled the tall chum, who really liked nothing better than to be thrown on his own resources, since it always served to bring out latent powers which he had hardly known he possessed, as well as wrought a sense of independence such as a progressive boy liked full well to feel.
He began chopping at small but sturdy second-growth ash saplings growing from the butt of a tree that had been thrown down in some previous storm, and soon had quite a collection on hand.
“Now, if you’ll help, Elmer,” he observed, “we’ll rig up a stretcher good enough for an emergency; though later on I’ll promise to better it in every way.”
To this Elmer agreed, and they had little trouble about carrying out the assignment. It was not a “thing of beauty, and a joy forever,” as Wee Willie candidly admitted, but then they would only require it for a short journey, and on that account it would hardly pay to go to any great trouble.
They lifted Mr. Codling on to this. Fortunately he was a small man, so the labor of transporting him would not be very great; and there was Amos only too willing to “spell” either of the litter-bearers.
Elmer considered well before making a start. He wished to be absolutely certain of his ground, since it would be too bad if they missed the cabin, and hence lengthened their tramp. Wee Willie also figured things out in his own mind; and from the way he wagged his head in appreciation, after Elmer led off, it was plain that his judgment must be identical with that of his chum.
Amos talked almost incessantly, for he had a thousand things of interest to pour into the eager ears of his long-lost father. Mr. Codling never gave even the faintest groan during the entire journey, though there must have been times when he found himself jostled more or less, since the trail was rough, and the slightest jerk would probably send a thrill through his leg.
But his mind was filled with a peace that passed understanding. All the agonies of seven years had rolled away. Once more he looked ahead to happiness during the balance of his sad life. Only again and again across his face would come a look of intense yearning, as voluble Amos did his best to picture just how pretty Kitty, the twelve-year old girl, was growing, so like her mother too; and what a smart scholar Louise had turned out at school, a perfect genius, many said; while Peter, bless his heart, was the dearest little chap, of whom any parent could be proud.