But the woman seemed of a different mind, and made such a desperate effort to raise herself that Betty had no alternative but to help her to her feet.
The girls supported the unsteady little figure while the dim old eyes roved questioningly about.
"I—got—hurt!" she gasped, and then quite suddenly fainted again.
"Oh, Betty!" moaned Mollie, her face white with pity. "She's hurt worse, much worse, than we thought she was! Oh, what shall we do?"
"There's only one thing to do," replied Betty, trying to hide the tremor in her voice. "We'll have to get her to the hospital, and in a hurry."
"But Grace and Amy!" gasped Mollie. "We can't go without them."
"We can at least get her into the car," Betty said, indicating the limp little figure in the roadway. "You take her feet, Mollie, and I'll take her head. We haven't spent all our lives outdoors for nothing."
Between them they succeeded in carrying their burden to the car and settled her gently in the tonneau.
"Oh, if Grace and Amy would only come!" Mollie was crying distractedly when the girls themselves burst through the underbrush, crying despairingly that they had not been able to find water, that there was not a house anywhere for miles around.
But Betty cut their lamentations short and hurried them into the car.