"Now," said she to Max, "get up and help Bob to carry him ashore." Max, who was speechless with grief and as helpless as a child in these new and strange circumstances, obeyed her docilely, and climbed to the deck of the barge. "Now, Bob," went on Carrie, as she seized the second oar and prepared to row away, "carry him into the kitchen--you know your way--as fast as you can. And lay him down before the fire, if there is a fire; if not, make one. Sharp's the word, mind!" "All right, missus." Max looked down. Already she had disappeared in the gloom, and only the muffled sound of the oars as they dripped on the water told him that she had not yet gone far away. Suddenly he felt a rough pull at his arm. "Come on, mister!" cried Bob, briskly. "She said, 'Sharp is the word.' And when she says a thing she means it, you bet your life." Max pulled himself together and turned quickly, ashamed of his own lack of vigor in the face of Carrie's intelligence and energy. Bob and he raised the body of Dudley and carried it across the plank to the wharf, where Bob, who knew his way about there, led the way to the door which Max remembered so well. It was open, and they passed through the outhouse, meeting no one, to the kitchen, which was also deserted. There they laid Dudley on the hearth, as Carrie had directed, and Bob proceeded to rake up the fire, which had died down to a few embers. Meanwhile Max had taken off some of Dudley's clothes, and began to apply friction with his hands to the inanimate body. He had scarcely begun, when Carrie came in with an armful of dry towels and a couple of pillows. "He is dead, quite dead!" cried Max, hoarsely. Carrie never even looked at him. Placing herself at once on her knees behind Dudley's head, she curtly directed Max to raise the upper part of his body, and slipped the two pillows, one on the top of the other, under the shoulders of the unconscious man. "Now," said she, "go on with your rubbing--rub with all your might; and you, Bob, bring in a couple of big stone-bottles you'll find in the wash-house, fill them with hot water from the boiler, wrap them up in something, and put one to his feet and the other to the side that's away from the fire." While she spoke she was working hard in the endeavor to restore respiration, alternately drawing Dudley's arms up above his head and laying them against his sides, with firm and steady movements. For a long time all their efforts seemed to be useless. Max, indeed, had little or no hope from the first. He still worked on, however, perseveringly, but with despair in his heart, until he heard a sharp sound, like a deep sigh, from Carrie's lips. She had detected a movement, the slightest in the world, but still a movement, in the senseless body. With straining eyes she now watched, that her own movements might coincide with the natural ones which Dudley had begun to make, and that real breathing might gradually take the place of the artificial.