who was found again. She put her ear close to
his mouth--the breathing was a little more distinct, and so far as she
could tell his head was uninjured. One leg was doubled up beneath him
in an ugly manner. Norah knew she must not try to move it; but even in
the darkness she was sure that it was badly hurt, and the tears were
falling on David Linton's face as Norah crept back after her
examination. It was horrible to see Dad, of all people, helpless and
still.

Perhaps it was the tears that woke him from his stupor. He stirred a
little, and groaned. At the sound, Norah, on her knees beside him,
trembled very exceedingly, with a mixture of joy and fear that almost
took her breath. She spoke softly.

"Dad!"

"Is it--you?" said David Linton, weakly. The darkness hid his face, but
to hear his voice again was wonderful; and Norah's hands shook as she
wrestled with the flask.

"Yes, it's me," she said. "Oh, Dad, dear old Dad, are you much hurt?"

"I don't know." The voice was very faint. Her fears surged back.

"Try to drink some of this--it's weak, and you won't choke," she said.
"Is your head hurt, Daddy? Could I lift it a little?"

"Not hurt," he managed to say. So she groped in the darkness to lift
the heavy head, and together they made a sorry business of the flask,
spilling far more than he drank. Still, some went the right way; and
presently he spoke again, his voice stronger.

"I knew you'd come... mate."

"Tait found you," she said. "And Jim was here, but he's gone for the
men. We'll take care of you, Daddy. Could I move you any way to help?"

"Better not," he said. "Just--be there." His hand closed on hers, and he
seemed to slip off into unconsciousness again, for when she spoke to
him he did not answer. So Norah sat and held his hand; and the night
crept on.

"Coo-ee!" Far off a shout. She slipped her hand away gently, and ran a
little way before answering, lest the cry should startle him. Then she
shouted with all her strength; and soon the beat of hoofs came nearer
and out of the darkness Jim came back, Murty galloping with him.

"He's spoken," said Norah; "but he's gone off again. And he's had some
whisky."

"Did he know you?"

"Yes; but he's terribly weak." They were all beside Mr. Linton now, and
Murty struck a match, and carefully shading it, scanned the fallen
man's face by its glimmer. Norah saw his own change as he looked. Then
the match went out, and for a moment it was darker than ever.