"I don't know. I haven't seen him since—I think it was—I don't know where it was," she ended, weakly, and with distress.
The Doctor looked at her keenly.
"Here, never mind him; he can take care of himself well enough; better than he can of you, by the looks of it. Sit down, now; yes, right here on the grass, and drink this."
He gave her a draught from his flask, standing over her threateningly when she hesitated at the entire contents of the cup cover.
"Take it all," he insisted, "every drop. It's the only thing on earth that's health to its enemies and death to its friends."
Sydney leaned back wearily against a jutting rock and closed her eyes. Her head swam, and she resigned herself to the Doctor's commands with the blessed feeling of relief that a woman has when responsibility falls from her own upon some man's shoulders.
A whoop from the chestnuts made her open her eyes.
"Is it Bob?"
"Yes, leading Johnny." Doctor Morgan raised his voice. "Come down here. You're a pretty feller to carry a girl to ride," he continued, as Bob tied the horse to one of the chestnuts and sprang down the slope. "No girl in my time ever shook me like that. Where did she lose you?"
Bob answered nothing to his father's gibes, but bent anxiously over Sydney.