Suddenly he raised himself up in the bed, and caught hold of Elsie, clinging to her with a grasp that made her utter a cry of pain. "He's killing me! he's got a knife! Mother, he's got me!" he shrieked out; then with a dreadful cry he fell back on the bed, catching his breath in great spasmodic sobs that shook the bed.
"It's all right, darling!" Elsie cried, her teeth chattering with fear, so that she could hardly speak. "There's no one but me—Elsie."
Presently he went on talking to himself again.
Elsie put her head close to listen, but could only catch a word here and there. "So cold—so tired—do let us go home, Elsie—can't walk—hurts me, it hurts me!" he kept on repeating over and over again, his voice rising almost to a scream of terror sometimes, then sinking into a moan of pain.
Suddenly he jumped up again and screamed, "They are lions, Elsie! they are not sheep. Lions and tigers and wolves! Run, Elsie, run, faster! Come, come, come!" He caught hold of her, and bounded off the bed, dragging her with him on to the bare hard boards, where he pulled and tore at her with such a strength that Elsie could not free herself from him for many minutes. When she did, he flew across the room, coming with a terrible crash against the wall, and sinking in a heap on the floor.
Elsie groped her way after him to pick him up, but she could not move him. He lay there like a weight of lead. She knocked furiously at the wall.
Presently the door opened, and the girl came in. "I can't think what's the matter with Duncan," Elsie cried, in an agonised voice. "He's been going on dreadfully. I think he keeps on having nightmares. He says there are lions and tigers, and men with knives, and now he's jumped out of bed and hurt himself. Oh! whatever shall I do with him?"
The girl struck a match and bent over the child; then she went and fetched a scrap of candle from her own garret. She lifted him up carefully, and put him back on the bed, then took water, and poured it on his face. Elsie stood by quite helpless, watching her. After a long time he began to make a little moaning noise, but his eyes did not open, and he lay perfectly still.
"Has he hurt himself much?" Elsie asked.
"I don't know, but I think it's more the fever than the hurt," the girl replied. "Poor little lad! he ought to be with his mother. He wants a lot o' care and nursing."