But Nell Thornton was so slow to return to consciousness that Bruce was about to rip up the sleeve of her dress to ascertain the nature of the wound from which the blood still trickled, when she stirred uneasily.
Thus encouraged, he renewed his efforts, and a little later had the pleasure of seeing her eyes flutter open.
She stared in a puzzled way up into his face, then tried to get on her feet.
“Let me help you,” Bruce begged, slipping an arm beneath her head.
“Whar—whar am I?” she demanded, putting up a hand protestingly.
“You are hurt, and you fell in the path up there, a little while ago,” Bruce explained. “I brought you down here by the brook.”
She looked at her hand, saw the blood, and made another effort to get on her feet.
She succeeded this time, standing panting and wild-eyed on the rocks.
“I’m not hurt ter speak on!” she asserted. “I ’low ez how I must hev got dizzy-like an’ fell, but I ain’t hurt ter speak on.”
She seemed about to start on down the path, but checked herself, with the feeling that perhaps something in the way of an acknowledgment was due this handsome stranger, and continued: