Freddie was properly proud of his new strength, and he believed that he could carry the old man.
"Where do you live?" said he.
"Up the mountain. I will show you. I beg you to carry me home."
"I will do my best," said Freddie.
He turned his back to the old man, and supporting him at the same time put the old man's arms about his neck, and by a great effort got the poor creature on his back. Carrying him thus, he began to go haltingly up the side of the gully. The little boy watched them wonderingly.
It was a terrible journey. The old man directed Freddie from moment to moment, and the way led steadily up the mountain, by a course which Freddie had not seen that day. The burden on Freddie's back became heavier and heavier; he panted harder and harder under it; he stumbled from time to time, and every instant told himself that he could go no further. The old man seemed to think of nothing but of getting home. The little boy followed, staring with big eyes.
Freddie had gone but a short way up the mountain-side when he felt through all his back, where it touched the old man, a chill; his shoulders and throat, where the arms of the old man touched them, became
cold; as he struggled on, the chill increased; he felt as if he were hugging to his back a burden of ice.
"Are we nearly there?" he asked, trying to wipe a cold perspiration from his forehead.
"No, no," said the old man. "Go on. A long way yet. You can't be tired so soon."