Part 7 (1/2)
”Yes, I am heavy, am I not?” said the artist, with a sort of chuckle.
”Oh!” he continued, with a groan. ”I don't think it's possible for you to do it.”
”I think it is,” said Will. ”You, Josh--Steady!--Yes, that's right; get down on his other side. Now, Mr Manners, I will help to pull you over, and Josh shall push. Now--are you ready?”
”Ready! Ay, ready!” said the artist, with a ghastly attempt at a smile.
”Now then, Jos.h.!.+”
By an united effort the position of the artist was altered, and the victim to a nasty fall gave a sigh as he folded his injured left arm across his chest.
”I--I--Brave boys! Good lads! I--”
”Oh, that's all right, sir,” said Will. ”I say, Jos.h.!.+”
”Well?”
”He's fainted!”
”Phew!” whistled Josh. ”Then he must be very bad.”
”I'm afraid he is.”
”Couldn't we ease him up a bit?”
”No. What I want to know is what we have got to do.”
”We have just got to hold on,” said Josh, doggedly. ”That's what we've got to do.”
”No. You run back, I tell you,” gasped Will. ”Fetch help.”
”Run back!” said Josh, scornfully. ”Six miles! I don't believe I could find the way; and anyhow I am not going to leave you two here.”
”But I can hold him fast; and how are we to get help if you don't? I shall be here to see him.”
”So shall I,” said Josh.
”No, I tell you. Climb up and get back home. How are they to know?”
”I don't know,” said Josh. ”Did they know where we were coming?”
”No. How could they?”
”Then it's just wait till morning. Heigh-ho!”
”But Mrs Drinkwater--”
”Of course!” cried Josh. ”What a stupid I was! Mrs Drinkwater knew.”
”She mightn't remember,” said Will.