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Updated: June 14, 2025
"I came from the North myself." The stranger had apparently forgotten him and was gazing steadily into the fire. Suddenly, with extraordinary energy, he sprang from the ground where he had been sitting. "Now," he cried, "en avant!" "Where to?" asked Cameron, rising to his feet. "East Kootenay, all the way, and hustle's the word." "Not me," said Cameron. "I must get back to my camp.
And look here, we'll want beddin' and lots of things, so hustle." And Ike set off with long strides. "Hustle's the word for her. Got to keep her busy, poor girl!" he said to himself. "Guess he's a goner. You bet that old chap don't weaken for no belly-ache. He's right bad." The only wagon in the place belonged to Carroll. "Want your wagon and outfit, Carroll," said Ike briefly.
But there was no time for indulging in vain objurgations. Bob as usual took the lead. "Come along, fellows!" he shouted, as he set off like a deer towards a rowboat that was pulled up on the beach. "We've got to save those people, and every second counts. Hustle's the word!" His companions were close on his heels, and without loss of time they had reached the boat. In it were two pairs of oars.
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