The shadows of evening began to gather, and
Madge, at Graydon's call, returned, wearied and somewhat discouraged.
"Cheer up," he said. "It is only a question of time. We shall soon be
missed, and our signals will be more effective when it is dark. See,
we shall not starve. I have been getting supper for you. Keeping the
remnants of our lunch wasn't a bad idea, was it?"
"Keeping up your courage and mine is a better one. Graydon, I fear you
are suffering very much."
"Oh, Madge, armies of men have broken their legs! That's nothing but a
little disagreeable prose, while this adventure with you is something
to talk and laugh over all our lives. I've cut my boot off and
bandaged my leg as well as I could, and am now hungry. That's a good
sign. I shall be positively hilarious if you make as good supper as
this meagre spread permits. Take a little water, for your throat must
be parched. You will have to drink it from the bottle, Pat's fashion,
for my rubber cup is broken."
"Indeed, a little water is all I want at present, and I must gather
wood for the fire before it is darker."
"Very well," he said, laughing; "supper shall wait for you."
The vicinity appeared as if never before visited, and there was an
abundance of dead and decaying wood lying about.
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