“Beatrice! Beatrice!” he called, pressing kisses to her brow, her eyes, her mouth--still warm, thank God!
He sank down among the underbrush and gathered her to his breast, cradling her, cherishing her to him as though to bring back life and consciousness.
To her heart he laid his ear. It beat! She breathed!
“The light, here! Quick!”
By its clear ray he saw her hair disheveled; her coarse mantle of brown stuff ripped and torn, and on her throat long scratches.
Bruises showed on her hands and arms, as from a terrible fight she had put up against the monster. And his heart bled; and to his lips rose execrations, mingled with the tenderest words of pity and love.
“We must get her back to the cave at once!” he exclaimed. “Quick! Break branches. Make a litter--a bed--to carry her on! Everything depends on getting her to shelter now!”
But the two Merucaans did not understand. All this was beyond their knowledge. Ignoring his hurts, Allan laid the girl down very gently, and with them set to work, directing the making of the litter.
They obeyed eagerly. In a few minutes the litter was ready-made of fern-tree branches thickly covered with leaves and odorous grasses.
On this he placed the girl.