One day when she and the vicar were cantering across the downs, they saw an old shepherd, who was a great friend of both of them, attempting to drive his flock without the help of his collie, Cap, who was nowhere to be seen. 'What has become of Cap?' they asked, and the shepherd told them that some cruel boys had broken the dog's leg with a stone, and he was in such pain that his master thought it would be more merciful to put an end to him. Florence was hot with indignation. 'Perhaps _I_ can help him,' she said. 'At any rate, he will like me to sit with him; he must feel so lonely. Where is he?' 'In my hut out there,' answered the shepherd; 'but I'm afraid it's little good you or anyone else can do him.' But Florence did not hear, for she was galloping as fast as she could to the place where Cap was lying. 'Poor old fellow, poor old Cap,' whispered she, kneeling down and stroking his head, and Cap looked up to thank her. 'Let me examine his leg,' said the vicar, who had entered behind her; 'he does not hold it as if it were broken. No, I am sure it is not,' he added after a close inspection. 'Cheer up, we will soon have him well again.' Florence's eyes brightened. 'What can I do?' she asked eagerly. 'Oh, make him a compress. That will take down the swelling,' replied the vicar, who was a little of a doctor himself. 'A compress?' repeated Florence, wrinkling her forehead. 'But I never heard of one. I don't know how.' 'Light a fire and boil some water, and then wring out some cloths in it, and put them on Cap's paw. Here is a boy who will make a fire for you,' he added, beckoning to a lad who was passing outside. While the fire was kindling, Florence looked about to find the cloths. But the shepherd did not seem to have any, and her own little handkerchief would not do any good. Still, cloths she must have, and those who knew Miss Nightingale in after years would tell you that when she _wanted_ things she _got_ them. 'Ah, there is Roger's smock,' she exclaimed with delight. 'Oh, _do_ tear it up for me; mamma will be sure to give me another for him.' So the vicar tore the strong linen into strips, and Florence wrung them out in the boiling water, as he had told her. 'Now, Cap, be a good dog; you know I only want to help you,' she cried, and Cap seemed as if he _did_ know; for though a little tremble ran through his body as the hot cloth touched him, he never tried to bite, nor even groaned with the pain, as many children would have done. By and by the lump was certainly smaller, and the look of pain in Cap's eyes began to disappear. Suddenly she glanced up at the vicar, who had been all this time watching her. 'I can't leave Cap till he is _quite_ better,' she said. 'Can you get that boy to go to Embley and tell them where I am? Then they won't be frightened.' So the boy was sent, and Florence sat on till the setting sun shot long golden darts into the hut.