"
After a while she said slowly, "I need wings. My feet are numb." And a
moment later, "I can not walk any farther."
"It is ten miles to a house," he told her gravely. "I couldn't carry you
so far. I'll take you a mile or so, and you will get rested."
"I am not tired, I am cold. And if you carry me I will be colder. You
just run along and tell Carol I am all right--"
"Run along! Why, you would freeze."
"Yes, that is what I mean."
"There is a railroad track half a mile over there. Can you make that?"
Connie looked at him pitifully. "I can not even lift my feet. I am
utterly stuck. I kept stepping along," she mumbled indistinctly, "and
saying, one more,--just one more,--one more,--but the foot would not come
up,--and I knew I was stuck."
Her voice trailed away, and she bundled against him and closed her eyes.
Prince gritted his teeth and took her in his arms. Connie was five feet
seven, and very solid. And Prince himself was nearly exhausted with the
day's exertion. Sometimes he staggered and fell to his knees, sometimes
he hardly knew if he was dragging Connie or pushing her, or if they were
both blown along by the wind. Always there was the choke in his throat,
the blur in his eyes, and that almost unbearable drag in every muscle.
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