"Whatever you promised,” Hugh interrupted him, “you will not be asking for help from Oscar Dansk. He is not there.”
“Where is he?”
“Out in the woods—looking for you.”
Dick shook his head slowly.
“That beats me,” he said. “I always thought poor Johnny was wrong about Oscar, I never really understood about that quarrel myself. And lately John was too sick to know quite what he did think, and he made me promise over and over, when he knew that we might be somewhere near where Oscar lived, that I would not go to him for help. They are both so obstinately proud. But I can see for myself that the only thing now is to do as you say. I should like to know how you ever got here, Hugh, and about a hundred other things, but we won’t spend time on explanations just yet. I suppose we can make a stretcher of blankets and carry him between us somehow.”
Their preparations were quickly made. John Edmonds, still unconscious, was lifted to the rude
