ery much that he and Daisy and the
trilobites were all back in their places again. How long could they sit
still up there on the mountain? He looked at the sun; he looked at his
watch. It was three o'clock. He looked at Daisy.

"Let me see," said he, "if anything is the matter. Hard to find out,
through this thick boot! How does it feel now?"

"It pains me very much, these two or three minutes."

The Captain looked at Daisy's face again, and then without more ado took
his knife and cut the lacings of the boot. "How is that?" he asked.

"That is a _great_ deal better."

"If it hadn't been, you would have fainted again directly. Let us
see--Daisy, I think I had better cut the boot off. You have sprained the
ankle, or something, and it is swollen."

Daisy said nothing, and the Captain went on very carefully and tenderly
to cut the boot off. It was a very necessary proceeding. The foot was
terribly swollen already. Again the Captain mused, looking from the
child's foot to her face.

"How is the pain now?"

"It aches a good deal."

He saw it was vastly worse than her words made it.

"My little soldier," said he, "how do you suppose I am going to get you
down the hill, to where we left our carriage?"

"I don't know," said Daisy. "You can't carry me."

"What makes you think so?"

"I don't _know_," said Daisy,--"but I don't think you can." And she was
a little afraid, he saw.

"I will be as careful as I can, and you must be as brave as you can, for
I don't see any other way, Daisy. And I think, the sooner we go the
better; so that this foot may have some cold or hot lotion or
something."

"Wait a minute," said Daisy hastily.

And raising herself up to a sitting position, she bent over her little
head and covered her eyes with her hand. The Captain felt very
strangely. He guessed in a minute what she was about; that in pain and
fear, Daisy was seeking an unseen help, and trusting in it; and in awed
silence the young officer was as still as she, till the little head was
raised.

"Now," she said, "you may take me."

The Captain always had a good respect for Daisy; but he certainly felt
now as if he had the dignity of twenty-five years in his arms. He raised
her as gently as possible from the ground; he knew the changed position
of the foot gave her new pain, for a flush rose to Daisy's brow, but she
said not one word either of suffering or expostulation. Her friend
stepped with her as gently as he could ove