Do you suppose we've been making any progress all this
time, or just going round in a circle?"
"Search me. I'll bet we've walked miles," groaned Bob. "I've got to
rest if we never find the trail."
He spoke wearily.
"You're not going to sit down, Bob," Van retorted sharply. "Brace
up. You've got to keep moving."
"But I can't. I'm tired and--and--sleepy."
His voice trailed off into a yawn.
"I don't care." Van wheeled on his friend fiercely and striding up
to him shook him violently by the shoulders. "Now pull yourself
together!" he commanded. "Where's your nerve? Brace up or I'll
rattle the daylights out of you."
"I can't go another step."
"You've got to. Start on ahead. Don't crawl that way--walk! Faster!
Faster than that, do you hear? I'm just behind you, and I shall step
on your heels if you lag. Keep it up. Go on."
Panting, Bob obeyed.
Suddenly he gave a cry.
"What's the matter?" demanded Van.
"There! There on the tree!" He pointed before him with trembling
hand. "Your sweater!"
Van pushed past him.
"Sure as fate! My sweater! Blamed if it isn't."
They both laughed weakly.
"Then we've found the trail!" Bob almost sobbed the words.
"We sure have! And hark, don't you hear voices? It's David, as I'm
alive; and your father!"
Aid had indeed come.
"Father!" Bob shouted the word and then laughed again--this time a
bit hysterically.
"The rescuing party's right here!" called Mr. Carlton.
He said it lightly, but as he came up and joined them Van saw that
his face was drawn and his eyes suspiciously bright.
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