“You carried him!” she exclaimed, incredulously. Then the large eyes blazed. “So that’s why you were so livid—why you fell?... Oh, you splendid man! You giant!... He’d have died out there—alone. I thank you with all my heart.”
She reached a white worn hand to touch Adam’s with an exquisite eloquence of gratitude.
“Get water—bathe him,” said Adam. “Have you ammonia or whisky?” And while he laboriously got to his knees the woman ran into the shack. He rose, feeling giddy and weak. All his muscles seemed beaten and bruised, and his heart pained. Soon the woman came hurrying out, with basin and towel and a little black satchel that evidently contained medicines. Adam helped her work over her husband, but, though they revived him, they could not bring him back to intelligent consciousness.
“Help me carry him in,” said Adam.
Inside the little shack it was almost too dark to see plainly.
“Have you a light?” he added.
“No,” she replied.
“I’ll fetch a candle. You watch over him while I move my camp up here. You might change his shirt, if he’s got another. I’ll be back right away, and I’ll start a fire—get some supper for us.”
* * * * *
By the time Adam had packed and moved his effects darkness had settled down between the slopes of the mountains. After he had unpacked near the shack, his first move was to light a candle and take it to the door.