Dreadfully alarmed though he was, Jack did not lose his head, as many boys would have done under the circumstances. There was still one match remaining in the box. This he cautiously lit, and by its feeble light saw that Theodore's eyes were closed, and his face perfectly colourless. For one moment he believed his stepbrother to be dead or dying; but the next, he thought that probably Theodore had only fainted, which was indeed the case.
Jack was the owner of a brave heart, so that after a moment's consideration he decided that he must go to seek assistance. He pressed a gentle kiss on Theodore's cheek; and then clambering up the hedge, dropped into the road on the other side. He did not know which way to go; but with a silent prayer to God to direct his footsteps, he turned to the right, and sped along as fast as his trembling limbs would carry him. He had not gone far before he came to two cross-roads, and after a slight hesitation, again took the right. By that time he was obliged to slacken his speed, for he was breathless and panting. He walked on slowly, holding his hand to his side, and praying that some one might be sent to help him. It was certainly growing lighter, he thought; and raising his eyes to the sky, he saw that the moon had arisen—a thin, silver crescent, it was true, but Jack felt less lonely at the sight.
How tired he was, and how heavy his feet seemed to be getting; they dragged as he walked. Oh, would no one ever come! To think of poor Theodore's pitiable plight all this while. Surely, soon he must reach some house, where he would find people willing to return with him to his stepbrother's assistance.
He struggled valiantly on, fighting against a strong desire to lie down and rest. At last, just as he was thinking that he could go no further, he heard sounds in the distance—carriage wheels, and the barking of a dog. Two lights appeared, coming towards him on the road, not will-o'-the-wisps this time, but the lamps of Mr. Fry's gig; and it was Help who was barking, as he bounded along by Boxer's side.
Jack exerted all his remaining strength, and shouted wildly; whilst Help jumped around him in delight, and old Boxer slackened his speed. The little boy ran forward as the gig stopped. He recognised the voices of Mr. Fry and his stepfather, and heard the latter exclaim: "Here they are, thank God!"
"Father—father!" Jack cried. "Oh, how glad I am!"
"Why, it's only one of them," Mr. Barton said in tones of misgiving, as he hastily dismounted from the gig. "Jack, is it you?"
"Yes, father," the little boy answered. "Theodore is not here. He is caught in a trap with such dreadful teeth! Oh, you must come quickly, or I am afraid he will die! Oh, poor Theo!"
And overcome with fatigue and fright, Jack threw himself into his stepfather's arms, and burst into a passion of tears and sobs.