But as soon as I had said it I regretted confiding in him. Unequal to facing the horror alone, he immediately set up a shout after the last man in sight, “Hi, wait a minute!”
Luckily the Winkle-Man did not hear him and kept on going. He had tripped on his long fork two or three times and was desperately trying to catch up.
“Before they return,” said I, “look here!” And I opened the trap and led Jasper down the ladder.
A huddled figure lay prone upon the earth where it had fallen, as if it had not moved since I had left.
“What?”
“Stop!” I cried, for Jasper would have wrenched the creature to its feet. “Can’t you see?” I turned the lifeless body over and tried to raise it from the damp floor. “Help me lift her on the mattress!”
Jasper caught hold of the limp form, and at the feel of the light body in his strong arms exclaimed again, “What—what is it?”
“It’s Mattie,” said I. “Don’t you understand? Mattie ‘Charles T. Smith.’”
“She’s not dead?” he asked.
“I hope not!”