Like the little foot-page of old ballads, John "let down his feet and ran," ran determinately on, down the now less precipitous slope-ran till he was beyond the trees, with the summer sun beating down on him, and in sight of figures coming out from the hotel to the carriage.
Johnny scarce ventured to give one sigh. He waved his hat in a desperate hope of being seen. No, they were in the carriage. The horses were moving!
But he remembered a slight steep on the further road where they must go slower. Moreover, there were a few curves in the horse-road. He set his teeth with the desperate resolution of a moment, clenched his hands, intensified his mental cry to Heaven, and with the dogged determination of Kencroft dashed on, not daring to look at the carriage, intent only on the way.
He was past the inn, but his breath was short and quick; his knees were failing, an invisible hand seemed to be on his chest making him go slower and slower; yet still he struggled on, till the mountain tops danced before his eyes, cascades rushed into his ears, the earth seemed to rise up and stop him; but through it all he heard a voice say, "Hullo, it's the Monk! What is the matter?"
Then he knew he was on the ground on his face, with kind but tormenting hands busy about him, and his heart going so like a sledge hammer, that the word he would have given his life to utter, would not come out of his lips, and all he could do was to grasp convulsively at something that he believed to be a garment of the departing travellers.
"Here, the flask! Don't speak yet," said a man's voice, and a choking stimulant was poured into his mouth. When the choking spasm it cost him was over, his eyes cleared, and he could at least gasp. Then he saw that it was his housemate, Evelyn, at whom he was clutching, and who asked again in amaze-
"What is up, old fellow?"
"Hush, not yet," said the other voice; "let him alone till he gets his breath. Don't hurry, my boy," he added, "we will wait."
Johnny, however, felt altogether absorbed in getting out one panting whisper, "A doctor."
"Yes, yes, he is," cried Evelyn. "What's the matter? Not Brownlow!"
"Both-oh," sobbed John in the agony of contending with the bumping, fluttering heart which _would_ not let him fetch breath enough to speak.
"You will tell us presently. Don't be afraid. We will wait," said the voice of the man who, as John now felt, was supporting him. "Hush, Cecil, another minute, and he will be able to tell us."
Indeed the rushing of every pulse was again making it vain for Johnny to try to utter anything, and he shut his eyes in the realisation that he had succeeded and found help. If his heart would have not bumped and fluttered so fearfully, it would have been almost rest, as he was helped up by those kind, strong arms. It was really for little more than five seconds before he gathered his powers to say, still between gasps-
"Out all night-the moraine-fog-snow-Jock-very bad-Armine- worse-up there."
"At Schwarenbach ?"
"Yes. Oh, come! They are so ill."
"I am sure Dr. Medlicott will do all he can for them," said another voice, which John saw proceeded from a very tall, slight youth, with a fair, delicate, girlish face. "Had he not better get into the carriage and return to the hotel?"
"By all means."
And John found himself without much volition lifted and helped into the carriage, where Cecil Evelyn scrambled up beside him, and put an arm round him.
"Poor old Monk, you are dead beat," he said, as the carriage turned, the other two walking beside it. "Did you come that pace all the way down?"
"Only after the wood."
"Well, 'twas as plucky a thing as I ever saw. But is Skipjack so bad?"
"Dreadful! Light-headed all yesterday-horrid pain! But not so bad as Armine. If something ain't done soon-he'll die."
"Poor little Brownlow! You've come to the right shop. Medlicott is first rate. Did you know it was we?"
"No-only-an English doctor," said John.
"Mother sent us abroad with him, because they said Fordham must have Swiss air; and poor old Granny still goes on in the same state," said Cecil. "We got here on Tuesday evening, and saw your names; but then the fog came, and it snowed all yesterday, and the doctor said it would not do for Fordham to go so high. And the more I wanted them to come up with you, the more they would not. Were they out in that snow?"
Here came an order from the doctor not to make his friend talk, and Johnny was glad to obey, and reserve his breath for the explanation. He did not hear what passed between the other two, as they walked behind the carriage.
"A fine fellow that! Is he Cecil's friend?"
"No, I wish he were. However, it can't be helped now, in common humanity; and my mother will understand."
"You mean that it was her wish that we should avoid them."
"She thinks the influence has not been good for Cecil."
"That was the reason you gave up the Gemmi so easily."
"It was. But, as I say, it can't be helped now, and no harm can be done by going to see whether they are really so ill."
"Brownlow is the name. I wonder if they are any relation to a man I once knew-a lecturer at one of the hospitals?"
"Not likely. These are very rich people, with a great house in Hyde Park regions, and a place in the country. They are always asking Cecil there; only my mother does not fancy it. It is not a matter of charity after the first stress. They can easily have advice from England, or anywhere they like."
By this time they reached the hotel, and John alighted briskly enough, and explained the state of affairs in a few words.
"My dear boy," said Dr. Medlicott, "I'll go up at once, as soon as I can get at our travelling medicine-chest. Luckily we have what is most likely to be useful."
"Thank you," said Johnny, and therewith he turned dizzy, and reeled against the wall.
"It is nothing-nothing," he said, as the doctor having helped him into a sitting-room, laid his hand on his pulse. "Don't delay about me! I shall be all right in a minute."
"They are getting down the boxes. No time is lost," said the doctor, quietly. "See whether they can let us have some soup, Cecil."
"I couldn't swallow anything," said Johnny, imploringly.
"Have you had any breakfast this morning?"
"Yes, a bit of bread and a drink of milk. There was not time for more."
"And you had been searching all one night, and nursing the next?"
"Most of it," was the confession. "But I shall be all right-if there is any pony I could ride upon."
"You shall by-and-by; but first, Reeves," as a servant with grizzled hair and moustache brought in a neatly-fitted medicine-chest, "I give this young gentleman into your care. He is to lie down on my bed for half an hour, and Mr. Evelyn is not to go near him. Then, if he is awake-"
"If-" ejaculated John.
"Give him a basin of soup-Liebig, if you can't get anything here."
"Liebig!" broke out John. "Oh, please take some. There's nothing up there but old goat, and nothing to drink but milk and lemonade, like beastly hair-oil; and Jock hates milk."
"Never fear," said Dr. Medlicott; "Liebig is going, and a packet of tea. Mrs. Evelyn does not send us out unprovided. If you eat your soup like a good boy, you may then ride up-not walk-unless you wish to be on your mother's hands too."
"She's my aunt; but it is all the same. Tell her I'm coming."
"I shall go with you, doctor," said Cecil. "I must know about Brownlow."
"Much good you'll do him! But I'd rather leave this fellow in Fordham's charge than yours."
So Johnny had no choice but to obey, growling a little that it was all nonsense, and he should be all right in five minutes, but that expectation continued, without being realised, for longer than Johnny knew. He awoke with a start to find the Liebig awaiting him; and Lord Fordham's eyes fixed on him, with (though neither understood it) the generous, though melancholy envy of an invalid youth for a young athlete.