I remember nothing of what occurred, till I awoke to find myself lying upon a stretcher in a small tent. A man was leaning over me, and when my eyes opened he seemed to regard it as a matter for considerable satisfaction. I tried to collect my thoughts sufficiently to ask where I was, but seeing my lips attempting to form the sentence, he stopped me by saying—
"Naa, naa, laddie, tha' must just bide still a bit longer. Dunna tha' try to talk, or tha'll be maakin' thaself ill agin. There's na call for hurry, a tell tha'."
That my kind friend, for such he had surely proved himself, was a miner, I had no doubt—his dress, his kit, and even his accent proved that; but otherwise I could hazard no guess as to where I was. Being too weak to bestow much consideration upon the matter, I closed my eyes and immediately fell asleep again. When I woke it was broad daylight, and my friend had just returned from shift. He hastened to put food before me, talking incessantly the while. From him I learnt that he and his mate had discovered me lying insensible beside the road, not fifty yards from his tent; that between them they had carried me in and put me to bed, and that I had been unconscious for something like six hours. Naturally, I expressed my gratitude, but he would have none of it, bidding me get well before I talked of saying "Thank you."
My lucky star was evidently in the ascendant. Under his care—for while the kindest and gentlest, he was also the most exacting of nurses—I soon made visible improvement, and in a week was so far recovered as to be able to get up and potter about the tent. It was time for me to be thinking of moving on again.
"Well, laddie," my benefactor said to me one day, "tha's lookin' braavly noo."
"Thanks to you," I hastened to reply, "for without your care, John Trelsar, I don't know where I should have been to-day; not here, at any rate."
"Softly lad, softly, I did na more fa' thee than tha'd do fa' me, I reckon, so we'll cra' quits to it."
"That's all very well; but I owe my life to you, you'll never make me see anything but that. And now, I wonder what's the best thing for me to do. I can't stay idle here; there's no work to be got in the town, so unless I ship to sea again, I don't know what's to become of me."
Trelsar was all alive in a second.
"I've got it," he said, slapping his huge hand on his knee; "there's Seth Polwill below there in Adelaide, look see—working in the Fire Brigade—tha' must go to he, and say Jack Trelsar sent tha', and, mark my words, he'll put thee on the wa' for some'ut."