When Jeanne recovered consciousness she knew by the rumbling and roaring that she was on board a train. The riding was very rough, and hardly realizing where she was she began to feel about her for the cushions, weakly wondering where the lights were. It came to her with a sudden shock as her fingers touched nothing but wood that she was lying prone upon the floor of some sort of a car with not even a blanket under her.
The knowledge brought back the full remembrance of what had happened, and she sat up quickly and tried to peer about her.
“Dick,” she called. “Dick!”
A low moan was the answer. Guided by the sound Jeanne groped her way in its direction, and soon came in contact with the prostrate form of the boy.
“Dick,” she cried again. “Dick, is it you?”
“Jeanne,” came the reply, in weak tones, “are you safe? I called but you did not answer. I did not know you were here. What has happened? Were you asleep?”
“I think I must have fainted, Dick,” answered Jeanne, as steadily as she could, for the thought of Dick’s wound sickened her, and she was still weak from her swoon. “But I am all right. How do you feel, brother? Are you suffering much pain?”
“It is terrible,” groaned the boy. “It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t for the jolting.”
“It must be dreadful,” said Jeanne, with aching heart. “Let me see if I can’t help that a little.”
She crawled close to his side, and seating herself with the side of the car for a brace, gently lifted his head and shoulders into her lap.