She brushed him aside and began to run. With her slight start she outdistanced him, and when he scrambled up to the top, she was already on her knees, kneeling down over the crouching form.
“He is not dead,” she cried. “Quick! Tell me where the wound is.”
Rochester stooped down on the other side, and Saton opened his eyes slowly.
“I am a bungler, as usual!” he said.
Rochester opened his coat carefully.
“He has shot himself in the shoulder,” he said to Pauline. “It is not serious.”
Saton pointed to the rock.
“Lift me up a little,” he said. “I want to sit there, with my back to it. Carefully!”
Rochester did as he was bid. Then he took his handkerchief and tried to staunch the blood.