He had begun to fear
the Senechal had lost his head and made a bolt for home.
He had been sitting under the bank of the cutting as the surest way of
keeping out of one or other of the black gulfs. But the interval had
given him time to recover himself, and he jumped up at once, all ready
for business, and hailed them.
"Down this side, I think," he said, and they swung the lantern over the
Grande Greve slope below the bit of crumbly pathway.
"Le velas!" said Thomas Carre, and handed the lantern to the Senechal,
and let himself heavily over the side, and groped his way down to the
motionless form among the bramble bushes.
"Pardie, he is dead, I do think!" as he bent over it.
"Let's see!" said the Doctor's quick voice at his elbow. "Hand down the
light;" and the Senechal waited above in grievous anxiety.
"Not dead," said the Doctor at last. "Stunned and badly knocked about.
He'll come round. Now, how are we to get him up?"
"Here's a blanket--and a rope."
"Good! The blanket!... So!... Now--gently, my man!... Got it, Senechal?
Right! Ease him down on to the path.
Pages:
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382