onward at a rapid rate.

For some minutes he could hardly stumble along, his feet feeling numbed
and tingling sharply, but by degrees the normal sensation returned, and
he could feel that he was walking through short heather, and at times
over soft, springy grass.

At last he was so exhausted that he stumbled again and again, recovering
himself by an effort, and keeping on for another quarter of an hour,
when his legs gave way beneath him, and he sank upon his knees.

A low, guttural ejaculation from his conductor now reached his ears, and
he felt that the plaid was twisted quickly from his neck, the cool night
air fell upon his cheek, and he could see the stars indistinctly, as if
through a mist, as they suddenly grew dark, and then there was nothing.

CHAPTER THIRTY.

DIRK MAKES HIMSELF USEFUL.

The stars were twinkling brightly when Max Blande looked at them again,
and for some time there was nothing else but stars.

But they were above him, and, as he looked up at them, they looked down
at him.

He felt that it was very cold, but it did not seem to matter, so long as
he could lie still there in bed with the window wide open, looking at
the stars; but by degrees he became conscious that his legs ached and
his arms felt sore, and the idea struck him that he should be much more
comfortable if he got up and shut the window, for it was very cold.

It was a long time before he made the effort to do this, and when he
did, a curious aching pain shot through him, and in a flash he knew that
he was not at Dunroe, but lying there somewhere in the mountains on the
wet grass, and he remembered all he had gone through.

He lay piecing it all together, and involuntarily his hand went to his
pockets, to find watch, chain, purse, pocket-book, all there safely, and
that he was unhurt.

Was it all a dream?

No; he felt that it was real enough, and that he must not lie there, but
rise once more, and try hard, and, he hoped, with better fortune, to
find some place where he could obtain shelter.

Making an effort which cost him no little pain, he turned over and
struggled to his knees, but only to sink down again, feeling absolutely
helpless, and ready to declare to himself that, come what might, he
could not stir till morning, even if he were able then.

Looking helplessly about him, it was to see that the night was
brilliantly clear, and that there was a gleam of water somewhere down
far below on his right, for the