Hurt or no, Edgar did not hear him, but lay there with his clothes soiled, and his tall hat trampled on by the drove, and crushed out of shape.
“I say,” said Dexter, shaking him; “why don’t you get up?”
Poor Edgar made no reply, for he was perfectly insensible and cadaverous of hue.
“Here! Hi! Come here!” cried Dexter, rising and waving his hands, first to Helen, and then to Sir James. “They won’t hurt you. Come on.”
The effect of the boy’s shout was to make the spot where he now knelt down by Edgar Danby the centre upon which the spectators sought to gather. Helen set off first; Sir James, feeling very nervous, followed her example; and the drove of bullocks, with quivering tails and moistening nostrils, also began to trot back, while Dexter got one arm beneath the insensible boy, and tried hard to lift him, and carry him to the stile nearest the town.
But the Union diet had not supplied him with sufficient muscle, and after getting the boy well on his shoulder, and staggering along a few paces, he stopped.
“Oh, I say,” he muttered; “ain’t he jolly heavy?”
A bellow from the leader of the bullocks made Dexter look round, and take in the position, which was that the drove were again approaching, and that this combined movement had had the effect of making Helen and Sir James both stop some forty yards away.
“Here, come on!” cried Dexter. “I’ll see as they don’t hurt you.” And Helen obeyed; but Sir James hesitated, till, having somewhat recovered his nerve, and moved by shame at seeing a young girl and a boy perform what was naturally his duty, he came on slowly, and with no little trepidation, toward where Dexter was waiting with his son.
“That’s right!” cried Dexter. “Come along. You come and carry him. I ain’t strong enough. I’ll soon send them off.”