"We'll do our best," returned Felton, over the wire, "but the truth is, we are pretty short of food, so take no chances."
They were already living on carefully measured out rations and Felton resolved to reduce his own portion below the meagre amount he had already given himself.
"Keep up heart, we'll help you—Good-bye!" So ended this talk with Worthy and Long.
The days dragged. The wood chopping, the fire keeping, the story telling, to beguile the weary hours, went on. Once or twice a day came a message of good hope from Sharon. The rescuers were off, and in the shortest time possible would reach the beleagured couple.
One morning there came a sharp, insistent ringing of the bell which opened the door of the world to these two who were making their one daily meal from scraps of dried meat, and almost the very last of the treasured rations were in their hands at the moment.
"Hello!" called Felton at the 'phone in a moment.
"Hello! That you Felton?"
"Yes. This isn't Tom, is it?"
"Yes—of course, Tom, just in from Parson's—been hearing about you. We left in a hurry—mighty lucky or you wouldn't have had the telephone connected and ready for business."
It was one of the men from Parson's camp.