“Oh, Mark, old fellow, don’t say that!”
“I’m wounded, am I not?”
“Oh, yes, dreadfully; and I have been in despair. I couldn’t have borne it, but Buck kept giving me hope. There were days, though, and nights, when you hardly seemed to breathe.”
“Days and nights!” whispered Mark. “What do you mean? Wasn’t it yesterday? Or was it to-day, just before dawn?”
“Oh, Mark! Mark! It was weeks ago!”
Mark was silent for a few minutes, as he lay thinking.
“Weeks!” he said, at last, and he lay perfectly silent. “Where are we now?”
“Right away in the wilds somewhere, where our friends brought us after they carried us off that night. I have hardly thought of that—only of you.”
“Our friends!” said Mark, at last. “Who are our friends?”
“Buck and Dan and the two blacks.”