"What, Uncle?"
"This, this, underneath us! This moaning and sighing and imploring for help!"
He threw himself flat on the sand; he dug furiously:
"Yes!" he shouted. "Wait! Wait a moment! I'm coming, I'm coming!"
And, rooting with his hands, like an animal, he sent the sand flying around him.
"Oh," thought Addie, "if he would only make one more effort suddenly to see, to hear, to feel that he was dreaming ... that he was dreaming! Oh, to have him get well ... to see him get well, all at once, so that one knew it by the brightness in his eyes ... and the untroubled look on his face!..."
Then he put his hand on Ernst's shoulder. The sick man stood up, walked along:
"Come on," he said, beckoning to Addie.