“Jem!”
“Mas’ Don! Oh! Thank the Lord! Amen! I thought—I thought— Oh! Oh!”
A choking sensation rose in Don’s throat, for he could hear close beside him the brave, true fellow sobbing like a woman.
“Jem! Jem, old chap!” whispered Don. “Don’t, pray don’t do that.”
“I’m a-trying not to as hard as ever I can,” whispered the poor fellow hoarsely; “but I’ve been bleeding like a pig, Mas’ Don, and it’s made me as weak as a great gal. You see I thought as you was dead.”
“No, no, Jem; I’m here safe, only—only my head aches, and I can’t get my hands free.”
“No, my lad, more can’t I. We’re both tied up, hands and legs.”
“But the others? Where is Tomati?”
“Don’t ask me, my lad.”
“Oh, Jem!”