Emma managed to stand up, although she was bruised all over. The fact that the coachman seemed quite uninjured reassured her somewhat. She heard the man opening the lamp and striking a match. She waited anxiously for the light. She did not dare to touch Franz again. “It’s all so much worse when you can’t see plainly,” she thought. “His eyes may be open now--there won’t be anything wrong....” A tiny ray of light came from one side. She saw the carriage, not completely upset, as she had thought, but leaning over toward the ground, as if one wheel were broken. The horses stood quietly. She saw the milestone, then a heap of loose stones, and beyond them a ditch. Then the light touched Franz’s feet, crept up over his body to his face, and rested there. The coachman had set the lamp on the ground beside the head of the unconscious man. Emma dropped to her knees, and her heart seemed to stop beating as she looked into the face before her. It was ghastly white; the eyes were half open, only the white showing. A thin stream of blood trickled down from one temple and ran into his collar. The teeth were fastened into the under lip. “No--no--it isn’t possible,” Emma spoke, as if to herself. The driver knelt also and examined the face of the man. Then he took the head in both his hands and raised it. “What are you doing?” screamed Emma, hoarsely, shrinking back at the sight of the head that seemed to be rising of its own volition. “Please, Miss--I’m afraid--I’m thinking--there’s a great misfortune happened--” “No--no--it’s not true!” said Emma. “It can’t be true!-- You are not hurt? Nor am I--” The man let the head he held fall back again into the lap of the trembling Emma. “If only some one would come--if the peasants had only passed fifteen minutes later.” “What shall we do?” asked Emma, her lips trembling. “Why, you see, Miss, if the carriage was all right--but it’s no good as it is--we’ve got to wait till some one comes--” he talked on, but Emma did not hear him. Her brain seemed to awake suddenly, and she knew what was to be done. “How far is it to the nearest house?” she asked. “Not much further, Miss--there’s Franz-Josefsland right there. We’d see the houses if it was lighter--it won’t take five minutes to get there.” “Go there, then; I’ll stay here-- Go and fetch some one.” “I think I’d better stay here with you, Miss. Somebody must come; it’s the main road.” “It’ll be too late; we need a doctor at once.” The coachman looked down at the quiet face, then he looked at Emma, and shook his head. “You can’t tell,” she cried. “Yes, Miss--but there’ll be no doctor in those houses.” “But there’ll be somebody to send to the city--” “Oh, yes, Miss--they’ll be having a telephone there, anyway! We’ll telephone to the Rescue Society.” “Yes, yes, that’s it. Go at once, run--and bring some men back with you. Why do you wait? Go at once. Hurry!”