ad between his hands, and I could just make him out
dimly, now that I was close upon him and certain of his presence.

"Are you hurt?" I asked. "You understand what I am saying?"

"Hurt!" he responded. "I'm as near killed as makes no matter. I thought
you was done for, sir. I called out two or three times when I came to,
but you never made a sign."

"I got a kick on the head," I explained. "It made me stupid for a time.
Do you know where we are, or have you lost your way altogether?"

"I don't know," the man responded, with a groan. "I never drove this
road before, but it strikes me we're on Barnes Common."

"Is there any house within reach?" I asked.

"How should I know?" he answered.

"Can you walk?" I asked. "I am dead lame, and cannot put one foot before
another."

"I'll try," he answered, still groaning, and with an effort he scrambled
to his feet. Once there he shook himself, and then began carefully to
explore his person with both hands from head to foot; kneeling on the
ground there I could see him more clearly against the lowering sky, and
when, after a prolonged examination of himself, he drew up his figure
and stretched his arms, I could see that he was fairly recovered from
the shock his fall had given him.

"Can you walk?" I asked again, this time with a little touch of
impatience. He answered that he thought he could, and began to stamp
about the wet grass to assure himself that his limbs were still
serviceable. "Mark this place well," I told him. "Find the road again,
and go for help. Don't leave me here all night."

The man promised to be back as soon as possible, and set off at a
stumbling walk. I shouted to him from time to time, he answering, and at
length I learned that he had found the road.

"Keep your heart up, governor!" he called, finally. "I'll be back as
soon as ever I can," and with that he left me.

For a long time, or for what seemed a long time then, I could hear his
heavy boots crunching on the gravel and loose pebbles of the roadway,
and then, except for the low voices of the rain and wind, and the heavy
breathing of the horse, complete silence reigned. I had been in worse
case many a time, and have been since; and I set myself to make the
best of things. The wind was rising and bringing the cold rain down in a
fierce slant, and the first thing I did was to crawl to the lee side of
the overturned four-wheeler, which lay wheels upward, securely wedged
into a hollow. There wa