I
will try to get some fresh air in here. Oh, I wish I had a knife," she
added as her groping hands came in contact with the canvas over which she
was searching for some little opening into which she could insert a finger
and tear the canvas. A moment later Harriet uttered a glad little
exclamation. She had found the opening that she was searching for. She
ripped the canvas after great effort, for the cloth was tough. Then to her
dismay she found a great fold of the canvas on the other side of the
opening thus made. All her labor had been fruitless.
Harriet raised her voice in a shout for assistance. The cry was muffled
and could not possibly have reached far. Their positions were growing more
and more desperate. Harriet Burrell's three companions were so firmly held
by the weight of the cots over them, that they were barely able to move.
Harriet being near the edge of the heap had a little more freedom. Of this
she was taking full advantage, wriggling desperately to enlarge the space
about her, seeking here and there for an opening through which she might
crawl in order to make a way for her companions, who were now crying
hysterically. Patricia, however, was more calm than any of the others save
Harriet herself.
All at once, the girl became conscious of a confused murmur of voices that
seemed to come from some distance away.
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