"Oh, Jack!" he gasped. "I'm glad—oh, Jack! Jean Paul—"
"He's safe?" demanded Jack.
"He's safe. Oh, Jack!—he said—he's a devil, Jack. He made me want to let him go! He said—oh! it's horrible! He said—oh! I can't tell you! Jack!——"
The boy's agonized voice trailed off; he sighed, and, his slender frame relaxing, hung limply over Jack's arm. Jack let his horse go, and waving to Mary to keep back, he bent, and dashed the cold brook water in Davy's face.
He revived in a moment or two, and clung to Jack. "Oh, Jack!" he murmured, "I thought you'd never come! I was near crazy. He said—oh! I can't tell you!"
"Never you mind, old boy," said Jack gruffly. "Forget it! Mary and I are both here. It's all right now."
He carried him up the bank, and put him down by the fire. A sip from Jack's flask further restored him. Then Jack turned with grim eyes and clenched fists toward Jean Paul's tent.
"You devil!" he muttered. It was the word they all used.
"I want to smoke," Jean Paul said impudently.
"Lie there and want it, damn you!" said Jack. He had much ado to restrain himself from kicking the beast. As it was he flung him over none too tenderly, and taking the handkerchief from the breed's neck, tied it tight round his eyes.