XV
TROOPER SIMPSON'S PRISONERS
Day broke drearily across the clearing. Mist rolled about the dark pines and when the wind got stronger the dark branches tossed. The loghouse was cold and trooper Simpson, turning over on the hard boards, shivered. Then he remarked that although the pit-lamp had gone out the room was not dark and he was dully conscious that he had slept longer than he ought. After a few moments, his glance rested on an object covered by blankets at the other end of the room and he got up with a jerk.
His head hurt and he was dizzy. He now remembered that he had run against a stump and fallen into the ditch; but he must brace up and with something of an effort he crossed the floor. So far as he could see, the warden's eyes were shut and his face was pinched. All the same, Simpson thought he breathed and when he touched him his skin was not cold.
"Hello!" he said, and Stannard, sitting by Douglas, turned.
"He's very sick," Simpson resumed. "What are we going to do about it?"
"We must try to keep him warm and when he can swallow give him a little weak liquor and perhaps some hot soup. I expect that's all, but I have sent for a doctor."
"I see you have given him good blankets," said Simpson, who looked about. "Leyland's not back; you allowed he had gone out for a few minutes. Then where's the big man?"
"I stated Leyland went out a few minutes before Deering inquired for him," Stannard said dryly. "Some time after Leyland went, Deering started for the bush."
"Then, I've got stung! You knew I'd lost my rifle and you helped my prisoners get off!"