“No, not now,” said Abel feebly. “I want to lie still and think. Yes, I remember now; he broke in at the side there while I was asleep. He had a knife, but I seized him. Did you come back then?”
“No, I have not long been home. Shall I go and ask Norton to come?”
“No, don’t leave me, Dal; I am so weak. But where is the dog?”
“He was not here when I broke in.”
“You broke in?”
“Yes; I could not make you hear. I say, though, had I not better fetch help?”
“What for? There is no doctor; and he might come back.”
Dallas had started, for as Abel spoke there was a loud thumping at the door. His hand went behind to his revolver, which he held ready, fully expecting from his cousin’s manner that the marauder who had attacked him had returned; but to the delight of both, after a second blow on the door, the familiar voice of Tregelly was heard in a cheery hail.
“Hullo, there!” he cried. “Any one at home?”
Dallas darted to the door, threw it open, and there in the gloomy light of mid-day stood their friend with a load over his shoulder.