"Can't we rig up some kind of a litter? for, if he's hurt much, it will never do to carry him by hand. Run get a shutter, Sam. Dick, go and bring a hatful of water. Poor boy! I'd rather it had been one of my own."
Dick flew to the brook, and brought back some water, with which they bathed the small white face. Then Sam made his appearance, with a shutter on his shoulder.
"Raise him softly, so. Dick, run after Dr. Meade as fast as you can go. We'll take him home."
They lifted him with tender hands; but both soul and body were unconscious of pain. Sam brushed away some tears with his shirt-sleeve, and Farmer Morris spread his linen coat over the silent figure. It was some distance to Mrs. Kenneth's.
Charlie was firing stones at a mark; but she rushed to the gate and screamed, "Granny, Granny!"
When Granny Kenneth saw them with their burden, a speechless agony seized every pulse. She could not even utter a cry.
"He isn't dead," Farmer Morris hurried to say. "But it's a sad day's work, and I'd a hundred times rather it had been my Dick."
"O Hal, my darling! The greatest comfort your poor old Granny had! No, I can't have him die. Oh! will God hear us, and pity me a little? I've had a sight o' troubles in my day, but this"—
They laid him on Granny's bed, and washed his face with camphor, feeling of the limp wrists, and chafing the cold hands.