"Oh, where's the doctor! He's dead—oh, he's dead! Can't you hurry?"
Next came a quick, authoritative voice, still far away, and a hush followed it; then an imperative order:
"Stand out o' the way! What do you think you can do by crowding on top of him?"
"Stand back! stand back!" other voices called.
Then he felt something cold on his head: they were taking his cap off and putting snow on his head; then the doctor (he knew him now) said:
"Let me take him!"
"Oh, can't I do something?" said the sweet voice.
"No—nothing."
Then there came a strange fullness in his head. Shadows lighted by dull red flashes passed before his eyes; he wondered, in a slow, dull way, if he were dying. Then this changed: a dull, throbbing ache came into his head, and as this grew the noise of voices grew more distinct and he could hear sobbing. Then the dull, rhythmic red flashes passed slowly away from his eyes, and he opened his lids, but the glare of the sunlight struck them shut again; he saw only Maud's face, agonized, white, and wet with tears, looking down into his. He felt the doctor's hands winding bandages about his head, and he felt a crawling stream of blood behind his ear, getting as cold as ice as it sank under his collar.
They raised him a little more, and he opened his eyes on the circle of hushed and excited men thronging about him. He saw Brann, with wild, scared face, standing in his cutter and peering over the heads of the crowd.