While they were occupied a plume of smoke shot up above the pines, and Charnock knew Kerr had sent off a locomotive to bring help. When they had put Festing on the stretcher a man arrived with brandy, but Festing could not swallow, and seizing the sledge traces, they started up the hill. Norton was in the shack when they reached it, and felt Festing's clothes.
“Not damp; it would be safer to let him lie until the doctor comes,” he said, and sent the men away. Then he turned to Charnock sharply. “Sit right down!”
Charnock swayed, clutched the chair, and sank limply into the seat. The floor heaved and the quiet figure on the stretcher got indistinct. Then Norton held out a glass.
“Drink it quick!”
Charnock's teeth rattled against the glass, but he swallowed the liquor, and sat motionless for a moment or two.
“Seemed to lose my balance. Bit of a shock you know, and I expect that stone hit me pretty hard.”
“So I imagine; there's an ugly bruise on your face,” said Norton, giving him back the glass. “The first dose braced you. Take some more.”
“I think not,” said Charnock, with a forced smile. “Dangerous remedy if you have suffered from my complaint. Didn't know my face was hurt until you told me. When d'you think the doctor will come?”
“There's a man at Jackson's Bench. Loco ought to make the double trip in about two hours.”
“Two hours!” said Charnock faintly, and braced himself to wait.