He, Mrs. Ripley and Linna could have done so without
inconvenience, but Alice was tired out. Her relatives were pretty
well burdened already, though either would have carried her had
it been necessary; but the party had gained so good a start that
there seemed little risk in making a long stop.
Omas reached down one hand and laid it on the bare head of Alice,
saying in a voice of strange gentleness--"Little girl tired--
she can rest."
And then all knew he had ceased walking because of her. Had she not
been a member of the party, he would have kept the rest on their
feet until the sun appeared above the forest.
"Yes, I'm tired, Omas," said the little one wearily, holding the
hand of the Delaware in both her own; "I'm glad you stopped."
The gloom was so deep, for there was no moon until very late
(and if there had been, its rays could not have pierced the dense
foliage), that they could hardly see each other's figures. Omas
hastily gathered some leaves and dead twigs, which were heaped
together against one of the boulders. Then he produced his flint
and steel--for he had learned the trick long before of the whites
--and by and by a shower of sparks was flying from the swift,
sharp blows of the metal against the hard stone. A minute later one
of the sparks "caught," and under his nursing a fire was speedily
under way.
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