He took the fallen man’s hand, and laid the arm in a natural position.
It was broken.
He then tried to lay his leg in its normal place, but there was something wrong; he could not tell what. And now he did what he might have been expected to do first, laid his hand upon the breast to try and find out if the injured man still lived.
He started to his feet then with the cold perspiration bedewing his forehead, and gazing sharply round, he exclaimed:
“I call Heaven to witness I never meant him harm.”
Then, throwing himself upon his knees, he began to examine the injured man once more, with feverish haste tearing open his shirt-front, laying his ear close to his lips, and ending by scooping up some clear water with both his hands from a little pool hard by, and dashing it in the prostrate man’s face.
“I little thought it would come to this. Rob—can you hear me? My God!” he groaned, “he must be dead.”
At that moment, to his great joy, the injured man moaned slightly, and, to Huish’s great relief, at last opened his eyes, and gazed vacantly round.
“Can you drink some of this?” said Huish eagerly, as he unscrewed the top of a small flask, and held it to the other’s lips.
Millet swallowed a few drops, and soon the vacant look passed from his eyes, and he groaned heavily.