He started off in high dudgeon to "coo" for Lawford, and bring on the board Edwin had left by the way.
Father and son were alone. The rain pouring through the tent seemed to rouse Mr. Lee to consciousness.
"I am hurt, Edwin," he said; "yet not so much as they think. But is there not any place of shelter near we can crawl into? This rain will do me more harm than the fall of the tree. If this state of things continues, we shall be washed away into the mud."
Edwin's heart was aching sorely when Hal returned with the board. Mr. Lee looked up with eyes which told them plainly the clouded understanding was regaining its power.
The old man saw it with pleasure, He knew even better than Mr. Lee that the steady rain was changing the mud to swamp. They must lose no time in getting away, at least to firmer ground.
He was looking about him for the nearest hill. He had made his plan; but he wanted Lawford's help to carry it out.
"He will come back soon," said Edwin confidently, feeling pretty sure Lawford had gone across to the lake to give Nga-Hepé his bag.
Hal was more puzzled than ever at his mate's disappearance, and again he wanted to know why the two had parted company. Edwin was so downhearted about his father, and so badgered by Hal's questionings and upbraidings, he knew not what to say or do.
Hal wrapped Mr. Lee in the blanket, and with Edwin's assistance laid him on the board. It was a little less wet than the sodden ground. He bound him to it with the cord which had tied up Beauty's hay.
"There," he said, as he pulled the last knot tight, "we can lift you now without upsetting my splints. They are but a bungling affair, master; but bad is the best with us."