Daisy said nothing, and the Captain went on very carefully and tenderly to cut the boot off.  It was a very necessary proceeding.  The foot was terribly swollen already.  Again the Captain mused, looking from the child’s foot to her face.

“How is the pain now?”

“It aches a good deal.”

He saw it was vastly worse than her words made it.

“My little soldier,” said he, “how do you suppose I am going to get you down the hill, to where we left our carriage?”

“I don’t know,” said Daisy.  “You can’t carry me.”

“What makes you think so?”

“I don’t know,” said Daisy,—­“but I don’t think you can.”  And she was a little afraid, he saw.

“I will be as careful as I can, and you must be as brave as you can, for I don’t see any other way, Daisy.  And I think, the sooner we go the better; so that this foot may have some cold or hot lotion or something.”

“Wait a minute,” said Daisy hastily.

And raising herself up to a sitting position, she bent over her little head and covered her eyes with her hand.  The Captain felt very strangely.  He guessed in a minute what she was about; that in pain and fear, Daisy was seeking an unseen help, and trusting in it; and in awed silence the young officer was as still as she, till the little head was raised.

“Now,” she said, “you may take me.”

The Captain always had a good respect for Daisy; but he certainly felt now as if he had the dignity of twenty-five years in his arms.  He raised her as gently as possible from the ground; he knew the changed position of the foot gave her new pain, for a flush rose to Daisy’s brow, but she said not one word either of suffering or expostulation.  Her friend stepped with her as gently as he could over the rough way; Daisy supported herself partly by an arm round his neck, and was utterly mute, till they were passing the place of luncheon; then she broke out,—­

“Oh! the trilobite!”

“Never mind the trilobite.”

“But are you going to lose it, Capt.  Drummond?”

“Not if you want it.  I’ll come back for it another day—­if I break my furlough.”

“I could hold it in my other hand—­if I had it.”

The Captain thought the bottle of claret might chance to be the most wanted thing; nevertheless he stopped, stooped, and picked up the fossil.  Daisy grasped it; and they went on their way down the mountain.  It was a very trying way to both of them.  The Captain was painfully anxious to step easily, which among rocks and bushes he could not always do, especially with a weight in his arms; and Daisy’s foot hanging down, gave her dreadful pain because of the increased rush of blood into it.  Her little lips were firmly set together many a time, to avoid giving her friend the distress of knowing how much she suffered; and once the Captain heard a low whisper not meant for his ear but uttered very close to it,—­“O Lord Jesus, help me.”  It went through and through the Captain’s mind and heart.  But he only set his teeth too, and plunged on, as fast as he could softly, down the rough mountain side.  And if ever anybody was glad, that was he when they reached the wagon.