It was just as her last bit of courage oozed away, and she began to cry,
that the boys suddenly realised how long they had left her.
"It must be as dark as a pocket in the woods by this time," exclaimed
Malcolm. "What do you suppose Ginger will say to us for leaving her
so long?"
"You will have to take a knife to cut her loose," said Keith. "I tried
to untie the knots before I came away, but I couldn't move them."
"My pocket-knife is up-stairs," answered Malcolm. "I'll get something in
the dining-room that will do."
He was rushing out again with a carving-knife in his hand, when he came
face to face with his grandmother and Aunt Allison. The boys had been so
interested in their camera that they had not heard the train whistle, or
the sound of footsteps coming up on the front veranda. Pete was lighting
the hall lamps as the ladies came in, and he turned his back to hide the
broad grin on his face, as he thought of the sight which would soon
greet them. Mrs. Maclntyre gave a gasp of astonishment and sank down in
the nearest chair as Malcolm came dashing into the bright lamplight.
His turkey feathers were all awry, standing out in a dozen different
directions from his head, his blanket trailed behind him, and the fringe
was hanging in festoons from his leggins, where it had come unpinned.
The red paint on his face made him look as if he had been in a fight
with the carving-knife he carried, and had had the skin peeled off his
face in patches.
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