With the able assistance of Brenda, while the girl went ahead carrying a small lamp that had been produced as if by magic from somewhere - possibility by Brenda — they picked up poor Erwin and followed. Down some half ruined stone steps they went, then through a long passage, then down more steps to a half open door.
Once inside, Stanley saw he was in quite a sizeable room, with two beds, one large, the other a mere cot. The girl led the way to the large bed, and there they laid the still swooning man who gave a slight groan as he was deftly covered by the girl who murmured as if to herself:
"Poor fellow, he has suffered!"
Already Stanley was leaving, saying:
"We must get Blaine down here quickly. He is in a bad way, I fear."
Seizing the lamp, the girl hurried after. On reaching the other stricken aviator, what was their surprise to find him leaning on one elbow, trying to rise, but vainly.
"Wha — what's the matter? Where am I?"
"You're with friends, old boy," soothed Stanley, seizing Blaine's arms, while Brenda took up the lower limbs. With the wounded man muttering aimlessly, again they wended their way to the lower chamber, evidently used by the girl and Brenda as a temporary sleeping place.
With deft efficiency the girl had snatched up Stanley's kit of dressings and other medical paraphernalia and hurried on ahead with the lamp. In a trice they had placed him on the cot. Immediately the two women were busy with these things and some stored aids of their own, dressing the bruises on both the boys and applying restoratives, so that in a short time both were awake, sensible, and staring with grateful wonder at these two women — angels of mercy — and the strange yet comfortable surroundings.
Mutual explanations had already begun when whirring, semi-thunderous noises again were heard. Stanley was instantly on the alert.