How they managed it they hardly knew themselves; but after many changes they at last got Ericson home, and up to his own room. He had revived several times, but gone off again. In one of his faints, Robert undressed him and got him into bed. He had so little to cover him, that Robert could not help crying with misery. He himself was well provided, and would gladly have shared with Ericson, but that was hopeless. He could, however, make him warm in bed. Then leaving Shargar in charge, he sped back to the new town to Dr. Anderson. The doctor had his carriage out at once, wrapped Robert in a plaid and brought him home with him.
Ericson came to himself, and seeing Shargar by his bedside, tried to sit up, asking feebly,
'Where am I?'
'In yer ain bed, Mr. Ericson,' answered Shargar.
'And who are you?' asked Ericson again, bewildered.
Shargar's pale face no doubt looked strange under his crown of red hair.
'Ow! I'm naebody.'
'You must be somebody, or else my brain's in a bad state,' returned Ericson.
'Na, na, I'm naebody. Naething ava (at all). Robert 'll be hame in ae meenit.—I'm Robert's tyke (dog),' concluded Shargar, with a sudden inspiration.
This answer seemed to satisfy Ericson, for he closed his eyes and lay still; nor did he speak again till Robert arrived with the doctor.