“No,” concluded Desiré, “it’s a man.”
“Must be sick, or dead tired to sit there on such a day,” observed Jack.
Just as he spoke the words, the interested watchers saw the man attempt to get up, and fall heavily back upon the ground. Urging the horses to greater speed, Jack soon brought the wagon abreast of the unfortunate creature. Face down, he lay perfectly motionless.
“Must be unconscious,” said Jack, as they all got out and stumbled up the bank upon which the man was stretched.
Desiré held her breath as her brother was rolling the figure carefully over. There was something strangely familiar about that heavy form. No mistake, it was their old enemy.
Brother and sister faced each other across the quiet body.
[“Oh, it’s him!” said Priscilla, in disgust.]
“He’s the man Jack fought with!” squealed René.
“Must be badly hurt,” said Jack; “wonder what we can do for him.”
“Do! Do!” exclaimed Priscilla; “why, leave him here and go on as fast as we can.”