In another moment she
had slipped away from Philip and back to her father. The Swede was
flattening his face against a two inch crevice between the logs
when Philip went to his side.
"What did she say, Olaf?" he entreated.
"That she's going to marry you if we ever get out of this hell of
a fix we're in," grunted Olaf. "Pretty lucky dog, I say, if it's
true. Imagine Celie Armin marrying a dub like you! But it will
never happen. If you don't believe it fill your eyes with that out
there!"
Philip glued his eyes to the long crevice between the logs and
found the forest and the little finger of plain between straight
in his vision. The edge of the timber was alive with men. There
must have been half a hundred of them, and they were making no
effort to conceal themselves. For the first time Olaf began to
give him an understanding of the situation.
"This is the fortieth day we've held them off," he said, in the
quick-cut, business-like voice he might have used in rendering a
report to a superior. "Eighty cartridges to begin with and a
month's ration of grub for two.
Pages:
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274