He
was licking something that lay in the shadows, almost invisible at
first, until the dim light showed a white glimmer. It was instinct more
than sight that told Norah it was her father's face.
"Daddy--oh, Dad!"
The wild cry turned Jim to stone for a moment--then he was off his horse
and through the scrub like a madman to where Norah knelt beside the
still form, sobbing and talking incoherently, and screwing blindly at
the cap of the flask she carried. They forced a little of the stimulant
between the set teeth, once a terrified examination had told them that
he still breathed; then Jim struck match after match, trying to see the
extent of his injuries--a hopeless task by the flickering light that
lasted only an instant. He put the box in his pocket at last.
"It's no good," he said, "we can't see. Wonder if the men are out of
hearing." Running to the horses, standing patiently with trailing
bridles, he fired off all his revolver shots in quick succession, and
coo-ed again and again. Then he went back to where Norah sat in the
darkness and held her father's hand.
"Don't wait," she said. "I'm sure they're out of hearing, Jim, darling.
And we couldn't dare to move him by ourselves. Tear in and bring the
men--and send for the doctor."
"I don't like to leave you here alone," he said, anxiously.
Pages:
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283