“Never say die, sir,” cried Lomax. “I remember a lad of ours in my regiment was swept with his horse down the torrent below where we were fording a river away yonder in India. He seemed to be quite gone when we got him ashore half a mile lower down, but we rubbed and worked him about for quite three hours, taking it in turns, before he gave a sign of life. But he opened his eyes at last, and next day he was ’most as well as ever. What time do you expect Doctor Browne back, sir?”
“Not till quite late to-night. And what news for him!—what a shock for them both!”
“Shock!” said Lomax. “Here, you take a turn now, Mr Hasnip; we mustn’t stop for a moment.”
Mr Hasnip, whose coat was off and sleeves turned up, sprang to his side and went on.
“I’ll relieve you again soon, sir,” said Lomax, wiping his dripping forehead. “But how was it, Mr Burr major?”
“I—I don’t know,” said my school-fellow, starting. “I think he suddenly remembered it was so deep, and he turned frightened, for he went under all at once and right down, and then I cried for help.”
“Better have lent him a hand,” said Lomax gruffly. “Well, Mr Hasnip, sir, feel him coming to?”
“No, no,” said the second master dolefully. “He is dead! he is dead!”
“Not he, sir,” cried Lomax roughly. “We’re going to bring him round; all we’ve been doing has helped him, and it’s a long way off three hours. Here, let’s have him out in the sunshine, please. I believe in the sun.”
The poor fellow was carried out, the two masters each taking a corner of the blanket on which he lay, Lomax and I the others.