Lost Legacy By Robert A. Heinlein

“Neither do I, but if we stay here we freeze.” With Ben now in the lead they resumed their cautious progress, heads averted to the wind, eyes half closed. Ben checked them again after a couple of hundred yards. “Careful, gang,” he warned, “the path is almost gone here, and it’s slippery,” He went forward a few steps. “It’s rather—” They heard him make a violent effort to recover his balance, then fall heavily. “Ben! Ben!,” Phil called out, “are you all right?”

“I guess so,” he gasped. “I gave my left leg an awful bang. Be careful.”

They saw that he was on the ground, hanging part way over the edge of the path. Cautiously they approached until they were alongside him. “Lend me a hand, Phil. Easy, now,”

Phil helped him wiggle back onto the path. “Can you stand up?”

“I’m afraid not. My left leg gave me the devil when I had to move just now. Take a look at it, Phil. No, don’t bother to take the boot off; look right through it.”

“Of course. I forgot.” Phil studied the limb for a moment. “It’s pretty bad, fella—a fracture of the shin bone about four inches below the knee.”

Coburn whistled a couple of bars of Suwannee River, then said, “Isn’t that just too, too lovely?

Simple or compound fracture, Phil?”

“Seems like a clean break, Ben.”

“Not that it matters much one way or the other just now. What do we do next?”

Joan answered him. “We must build a litter and get you down the mountain!”

“Spoken like a true girl scout, kid. Have you figured how you and Phil can maneuver a litter, with me in it, over that stretch of ice?”

“We’ll have to—somehow.” But her voice lacked confidence.

“It won’t work, kid. You two will have to straighten me out and bed me down, then go on down the mountain and stir out a rescue party with proper equipment. I’ll get some sleep while you’re gone. I’d appreciate it if you’d leave me some cigarets.”

“No!” Joan protested. “We won’t leave you here alone.”

Phil added his objections. “Your plan is as bad as Joan’s, Ben. It’s all very well to talk about sleeping until we get back, but you know as well as I do that you would die of exposure if you spent a night like this on the ground with no protection.”

“I’ll just have to chance it. What better plan can you suggest”

“Wait a minute. Let me think.” He sat down on the ledge beside his friend and pulled at his left ear. This is the best I can figure out: We’ll have to get you to some place that is a little more sheltered, and build a fire to keep you warm. Joan can stay with you and keep the fire going while I go down after help.”

“That’s all right,” put in Joan, “except that I will be the one to go after help. You couldn’t find your way in the dark and the snow, Phil. You know yourself that your direct perception isn’t reliable as yet— you’d get lost.”

Both men protested. “Joan, you’re not going to start off alone.”—”We can’t permit that, Joan.”

“That’s a lot of gallant nonsense. Of course I’m going.”

“No.” It was a duet.

“Then we all stay here tonight, and huddle around a fire. I’ll go down in the morning.”

“That might do,” Ben conceded, “if—”.”Good evening, friends.” A tall, elderly man stood on the ledge behind them. Steady blue eyes regarded them from under shaggy white eyebrows. He was smooth shaven but a mane of white hair matched the eyebrows. Joan thought he looked like Mark Twain.

Coburn recovered first. “Good evening,” he answered, “if it is a good evening—which I doubt.”

The stranger smiled with his eyes. “My name is Ambrose, ma’am. But your friend is in need of some assistance. If you will permit me, sir—” He knelt down and examined Ben’s leg, without removing the boot. Presently he raised his head. “This will be somewhat painful. I suggest, son, that yo u go to sleep.” Ben smiled at him, closed his eyes, and gave evidence by his slow, regular breathing that he was asleep.

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