ght in deep trouble, for
this was something so terribly new in Bob. He did not seem the sort
of fellow who could ever be ill.

Something ought to be done for him, and that quickly; this much
Eustace knew. At home he would have rushed for water; but here
where there was none--where there was nothing--what was he to do?
If only he were a man, and carried a brandy flask, as his father
always did! A sudden brilliant idea struck him--perhaps Bob carried
a flask himself!

It was the work of but a few seconds to search him, and to the
boy's joy he found a little flask full of spirit. It was not very
long since Eustace had had a practical demonstration of what to do
with some one in a faint. He remembered Mrs. Robertson's treatment
of his mother the night of their fright about Becky.

So first he moistened the dry blue lips, then put a few drops
between them. Oh, it was a tedious, terrifying business--too long
to describe; and nothing scared Eustace more than the choking and
gasping with which Bob came to himself at last. But it was the
turning-point and saving of his life.

It took Bob a long time to pull himself sufficiently together to
make a sign to Eustace that he knew him. He was far too weak to
speak at first; but after a long, dazed study of the boy's white,
miserable face, Bob's lips parted in a pitiful attempt at a smile.

To his own after-annoyance and shame, whenever he remembered it,
Eustace flung himself face downwards on the ground and fairly
sobbed. What fear for his own safety and all the horrors he had
gone through had no power to do, the relaxation of this tension of
anxiety about Bob did.

"Say, old chap," came in a far-away whisper to his ears, "don't!"

It pulled him up short. Bob's eyes were closed, and he looked so
like fainting again that Eustace gave him more brandy.

It had a good effect; but later, not even when he had regained his
full consciousness, could Bob move hand or foot; he was as stiff as
a log. Just as he had been bound rigidly upright, so he remained
now lying at full length.

"Guess I'm pretty helpless," he said in a thin, weak voice. "I
shall have to be oiled before I can move." Then, after a little
while, when he had been lying staring at his companion meditatively
some minutes, he said, "Just explain what you are doing here, will
you?"

From the very beginning--the return of Bolter--Eustace told the
story of the last few days, and Bob listened with growing eagerness
in