So he drank. And the three stood by without speaking to him. “Let him be a minute,” Peter whispered; “he'll be all right as soon as the milk begins to run like fire through his veins.” He was. “I'm better now,” he announced. “I remember all about it.” He tried to move, but the movement ended in a groan. “Bother! I believe I've broken my leg,” he said. “Did you tumble down?” asked Phyllis, sniffing. “Of course not--I'm not a kiddie,” said the boy, indignantly; “it was one of those beastly wires tripped me up, and when I tried to get up again I couldn't stand, so I sat down. Gee whillikins! it does hurt, though. How did YOU get here?” “We saw you all go into the tunnel and then we went across the hill to see you all come out. And the others did--all but you, and you didn't. So we are a rescue party,” said Peter, with pride. “You've got some pluck, I will say,” remarked the boy. “Oh, that's nothing,” said Peter, with modesty. “Do you think you could walk if we helped you?” “I could try,” said the boy. He did try. But he could only stand on one foot; the other dragged in a very nasty way. “Here, let me sit down. I feel like dying,” said the boy. “Let go of me--let go, quick--” He lay down and closed his eyes. The others looked at each other by the dim light of the little candle. “What on earth!” said Peter. “Look here,” said Bobbie, quickly, “you must go and get help. Go to the nearest house.” “Yes, that's the only thing,” said Peter. “Come on.” “If you take his feet and Phil and I take his head, we could carry him to the manhole.” They did it. It was perhaps as well for the sufferer that he had fainted again. “Now,” said Bobbie, “I'll stay with him. You take the longest bit of candle, and, oh--be quick, for this bit won't burn long.” “I don't think Mother would like me leaving you,” said Peter, doubtfully. “Let me stay, and you and Phil go.” “No, no,” said Bobbie, “you and Phil go--and lend me your knife. I'll try to get his boot off before he wakes up again.” “I hope it's all right what we're doing,” said Peter. “Of course it's right,” said Bobbie, impatiently. “What else WOULD you do? Leave him here all alone because it's dark? Nonsense. Hurry up, that's all.” So they hurried up. Bobbie watched their dark figures and the little light of the little candle with an odd feeling of having come to the end of everything. She knew now, she thought, what nuns who were bricked up alive in convent walls felt like. Suddenly she gave herself a little shake. “Don't be a silly little girl,” she said. She was always very angry when anyone else called her a little girl, even if the adjective that went first was not “silly” but “nice” or “good” or “clever.” And it was only when she was very angry with herself that she allowed Roberta to use that expression to Bobbie.