“Think av all the mouths to be fed, would ye; and why should I lit it lay here, where it wull do no good at all, at all, save to fill the stomach av a wolf, or make a wildcat feel happy? Sure it goes along wid me if I can limp.”
And it did,—that is, for some little time, though Pat had to call for a stop, and rest, every hundred yards. Once he proposed that the two boys desert him, and make for the place where the boat was tied up above.
“’Tis only a matter av a mile or so, me lads,” he said, “an’ I’m dead sure ye’d be able to find the same widout much throuble. In good time Pat would come limpin’ into camp. Kape the river on your lift, that do be all yees have to do.”
“Well, that’s something we’ll never do, Pat, desert a comrade in trouble,” was the vehement reply of Bob; and Sandy was even more emphatic; so the pleased Irish trapper had to be content with the way things were going.
“We’ve got the whole night before us,” Bob remarked, in a low voice, for Pat had warned them to be careful, because there was no telling what might be abroad in the big timber bordering the river.
“And once we get aboard the flatboat,” continued Sandy, in the same vein, “Pat can have his sprain looked after by mother; and there’s no need of him setting his weight on that foot again till it’s well.”
It was at one of the resting spells that something occurred to Bob.
“I was thinking,” he remarked in a whisper, “that, if we looked around, we might find some good stuff here.”
“Stuff for what?” asked Sandy.
“To make a litter out of,” replied Bob.