“I lit on my head, but I guess I’ve broken my leg.  Don’t frighten mother,” and Jack held fast to Frank’s arm as he looked into the anxious face bent over him; for, though the elder tyrannized over the younger, the brothers loved one another dearly.

“Lift his head, Frank, while I tie my handkerchief round to stop the bleeding,” said a quiet voice, as Ed Devlin laid a handful of soft snow on the wound; and Jack’s face brightened as he turned to thank the one big boy who never was rough with the small ones.

“Better get him right home,” advised Gus, who stood by looking on, with his little sisters Laura and Lotty clinging to him.

“Take Jill, too, for it’s my opinion she has broken her back.  She can’t stir one bit,” announced Molly Loo, with a droll air of triumph, as if rather pleased than otherwise to have her patient hurt the worse; for Jack’s wound was very effective, and Molly had a taste for the tragic.

This cheerful statement was greeted with a wail from Susan and howls from Boo, who had earned that name from the ease with which, on all occasions, he could burst into a dismal roar without shedding a tear, and stop as suddenly as he began.

“Oh, I am so sorry!  It was my fault; I shouldn’t have let her do it,” said Jack, distressfully.

“It was all my fault; I made him.  If I’d broken every bone I’ve got, it would serve me right.  Don’t help me, anybody; I’m a wicked thing, and I deserve to lie here and freeze and starve and die!” cried Jill, piling up punishments in her remorseful anguish of mind and body.

“But we want to help you, and we can settle about blame by and by,” whispered Merry with a kiss; for she adored dashing Jill, and never would own that she did wrong.

“Here come the wood-sleds just in time.  I’ll cut away and tell one of them to hurry up.”  And, freeing himself from his sisters, Gus went off at a great pace, proving that the long legs carried a sensible head as well as a kind heart.

As the first sled approached, an air of relief pervaded the agitated party, for it was driven by Mr. Grant, a big, benevolent-looking farmer, who surveyed the scene with the sympathetic interest of a man and a father.

“Had a little accident, have you?  Well, that’s a pretty likely place for a spill.  Tried it once myself and broke the bridge of my nose,” he said, tapping that massive feature with a laugh which showed that fifty years of farming had not taken all the boy out of him.  “Now then, let’s see about this little chore, and lively, too, for it’s late, and these parties ought to be housed,” he added, throwing down his whip, pushing back his cap, and nodding at the wounded with a reassuring smile.

“Jill first, please, sir,” said Ed, the gentle squire of dames, spreading his overcoat on the sled as eagerly as ever Raleigh laid down his velvet cloak for a queen to walk upon.

“All right.  Just lay easy, my dear, and I won’t hurt you a mite if I can help it.”