At last, there was a thudding of feet, a big form sprang upon him with a low whimper of recognition. It was the mastiff. He heaved a deep sigh of relief. He was on the right track. "All right, old fellow. Take me to her! Fetch her!" Hercules understood; but as he was bounding away Justin gripped him by the collar. "Not so fast, my man! I don't mean to lose you again if I can help it." He took off a muffler he had round his throat, and slipped one end of it through the mastiff's collar. Then suffered himself to be led along at breakneck speed. But he believed in Hercules, and did not expect to be dashed over the edge of some crag. After a quarter of an hour's hard walking, they came right off the path amongst rough blocks of granite. Here Justin stumbled again and again, but Hercules led steadily on, and then—was it fancy? He thought he heard a faint cry in the distance. They were descending now a steep, precipitous path. It was dangerous going. But they rounded a sharp corner and came upon a flat grassy plateau. And here, dimly through the moving mist, he saw, under the shadow of a sharp overhanging crag, a figure. "Anstice!" he shouted. And her voice, clear as a bell, answered him: "I am here. This way!" [Illustration: "He must have fallen down here from above." _Her Kingdom_ Book II, Chapter I.] He had found her! Crouched down over another figure lying on the ground beside her. "What are you doing? Are you hurt?" "It is poor old Tommy Nixon." She rose slowly to her feet. He gripped her by the arm, but she shrank from his touch. "Can you lift him up? Poor old man, he is seriously injured. He must have fallen down here from above. I'll tell you all about it afterwards, but how can we get him home? I haven't the least notion where we are. I heard his dog barking. Take care, don't step on him; he resents anyone touching his master. Is anyone with you?" "James may be round about!" He sent a loud halloa out amongst the Fells. Echoes resounded from the rocky crags, and a faint shout that was not his came to them. Then Justin flashed his torch to and fro. There was an answering gleam in the mist, and in ten minutes' time, the farmer had joined them. Just before he came up, Justin spoke almost roughly: "Why the deuce didn't you come home and send some one out to this poor fellow? I've been hunting for you for hours." "And I have been waiting for hours," was the quiet reply. "I could not leave him; he begged me not to do so. He was in terrible suffering. Now he's unconscious, but I was able to give him some brandy, and he is living still. Listen to his breathing!" She was bending over him again. Her whole soul was with the poor old man. She seemed indifferent to herself or to Justin. Then James came up. But it was Justin who slipped out of his heavy coat, and lifting the old man into it, used it as a stretcher, James taking one end of it, and he the other. "How far are we from his house?"