“Then Sirayo is wounded.”
“His arm is bruised, not broken; and then we have you.”
“But,” he said, “I am blind!” and the long restraint he had put upon himself giving way, he flung his hands out before him with a groan of bitter disappointment.
“Blind!” she murmured, “blind!” and sinking beside him, she caught his hands in a convulsive grasp, and looked into his drawn and bandaged face. “Oh, Frank! why did not you tell me of this before? How did it happen? But never mind now; let me lead you to the cave. Blind! and out on that fearful ledge.”
“Yes,” he said, with a ghastly smile; “lead me to the hospital.”
“Hullo!” shouted Webster, as they approached the opening, “I thought you had left me, cast me adrift without compass or food, and I have a most extravagant appetite. Don’t look so downcast; I assure you I am quite well. Why, what is it?”
“You see, I am crippled, Jim, disabled, helpless, worse than useless.”
“Lad, I don’t believe it;” and rising, Webster stepped to Hume’s side, took his hand, then, as he caught the signs of suffering, he gently pressed him to the couch, while Laura leant against the rock with her hands before her face, her courage gone at last.
“Hurt, while I have been lying here like a log. Well, it is my turn to help now. Let us look at it.” Gently he drew away the roughly-tied bandage, and caught his breath at what he saw. He looked quickly over his shoulder. “Laura, tell Klaas to get some water.” She went out slowly, and he examined the injury. The upper part of Hume’s face was blackened, the eyelashes and eyebrows burnt off, the eyelids glued to the cheeks. “Poor lad!” he muttered. “She must not see this.”
“Is it so bad; will I ever see again, Jim?”