"Let it!" muttered Tom between his teeth, as he dropped upon his knees,
scooping away at the sand, helped now by the dog, which began to be too
useful, and got in the way. All the same though, by the time the tree
was fast the sand had been swept from Pete Warboys' face; and David and
Uncle Richard stooping and passing their hands beneath him, very little
effort was required to draw him right out of the hole, and up among the
pine-trees, where he was laid gently down, amid a profound silence,
while Uncle Richard knelt beside him, and the dog, after a furious
volley of barks, began to snuffle at its master's face.

"Dead?" whispered the Vicar, as Uncle Richard carefully made his
examination, just as he had many a time played medicine-man or surgeon
to a sick or injured coolie.

He made some answer, but it was drowned by the dog, which threw up its
head and uttered a mournful howl, while a feeling of awe made those
around look on in silence.

"You are in too great a hurry, my good friend," said Uncle Richard then,
as he turned to the dog. "There's a little life in your master yet, but
one arm is broken, and I'm afraid that he is badly crushed."

Tom drew a breath full of relief, while his uncle rose to his feet.

"I think, Maxted, if you will go on first, and warn his grandmother, and
have a bed ready, and also get the doctor there, we will make a litter
of a couple of poles and some fir-boughs, and carry him home. It would
be better for you to go to the old woman than for Tom."

"Yes," said the Vicar, who set aside his regular quiet, sedate bearing,
and ran off through the wood at a sharp trot.

"Out with your knife, Tom," cried Uncle Richard; "cut a piece three feet
long off one of those ropes, and unravel it into string."

Tom set to work, while the carpenter cut off a couple of straight
fir-boughs, which David trimmed quickly with the axe, and a few
cross-pieces were sawn off about thirty inches long.

Then Tom stared in wonder to see how rapidly his uncle bound the short
pieces of wood across the long, afterwards weaving in small pieces of
the green fir, and forming a strong, fairly soft litter.

"Not the first time by many, Tom," he said. "Accidents used to be
frequent in clearing forest in the East. There: that will do. Now for
our patient."

He knelt down beside Pete, placed a bough of thickly-clothed fir beneath
the injured arm, and then closely bound all to the boy's side.

"More harm is often