Basil shouted with all the force of his young lungs, and again the faint, muffled voice answered with a cry for help.
“Come on,” exclaimed Basil in great excitement; “we’ll find him!” and sure enough in another bend of the path Basil nearly fell over the prostrate figure of a man lying right across it, for here it suddenly grew wider. The man raised himself on his elbow, exclaiming:
“I say, do you think that when you get to the village you could send help? I’m very much afraid that I’ve broken my leg. I can’t stand, and moving at all hurts it no end.”
“Why, it’s the jokey man!” Basil cried out in dismay. “However did you do it?”
“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” added Viola. “This is sad.”
None of them could see the other, but nevertheless, the jokey man knew in a minute who had come to his rescue, and forgot his injuries in his surprise, exclaiming:
“Whatever are you two doing here? Is the General with you?”
“Oh, dear, no,” said Viola proudly; “we’re quite alone, or we shouldn’t be here, but isn’t it a good thing we are here? How did you fall?”
“I was mooning along, not thinking where I was going, when down came the mist. I made a false step and went bang over the edge, but only fell on to the path below, not right over, as I might have done.... Perhaps it would have been better if I had,” he added to himself.
“You’d better go and get help, Basil,” said Viola decidedly, “and I’ll stay and take care of Mr. Smith till they come.”