youth fell within a few yards and Ruth was obliged to drag him
through the drifts.

Her friends continued to shout, and occasionally she stood upright,
made a megaphone of her hands, and returned their hail. But her
strength--all of it--finally had to be given to the boy. She seized
him by the shoulders and fairly dragged him toward the other side of
the gully, thus walking against the wind, backwards. Occasionally she
threw a glance over her shoulder to make sure that she was making
straight for the campfire.

The girls' voices drew nearer and finally, at the foot of the slope
leading up to the camp, she was forced to halt and drop her burden.

"Come down and help me, Madge!" she cried. "It's a boy--a boy! He
can't help himself. Come quick!"

The girls were only a few yards away, but so fiercely did the wind
blow that Ruth had to repeat her call for help before Madge Steele
understood. Then the big girl dropped down off the ledge and plowed
her way toward Ruth and her burden.

"The poor fellow! who is he?" gasped Madge, as together they raised
the strange boy and started up the sharp ascent.

"Not Tom! Oh! it's never Tom?" shrieked Helen at the top of the hill.

"No, no!" gasped Ruth. "It's--the--boy--that--ran away."

They got him upon the dry ledge of rock before the fire. His cheeks