“Lilla?” I whispered.
“Harry!” was breathed upon my cheek, as she came forward.
But this was no time for talking, and rallying my strength I rose to my knees.
“I thought I should never have reached you, Uncle,” I said.
“I did my best, Harry,” he whispered; “but I felt that when those blood-hounds leaped suddenly out from the brake that I must push off.”
“But what was that struggle I heard? Did I not hear Garcia’s voice?”
“Yes,” said my uncle, huskily.
“And where is Tom?”
My uncle was silent.
“Poor Tom?” I said, in an inquiring voice.