His eyes blinked at her uncertainly.
“Hello!” he said rather feebly. “What’s happened?”
“I thought you were killed!” she cried unsteadily. “Oh, Tony, I thought you were killed!”
He regarded her consideringly.
“No,” he replied seriously. “I’m not at all killed. Why should I be killed?” Then, clearer consciousness returning: “Am I talking rot? What’s happened?”
Ann slipped her arm beneath his shoulders and raised him a little so that his head rested on her lap.
“You fell,” she said, trying to speak calmly. “You were climbing up and you fell. Where are you hurt, Tony?”
“Oh, I remember.... Yes, I fell—just as I was getting to the top. A rotten old stump gave way under my foot.”
“But where are you hurt?” persisted Ann anxiously.
“I don’t think I am hurt.” He stretched his limbs tentatively. “No, there’s nothing broken. I feel a bit buzzy in the head, that’s all.”