While he was yet nearly a mile from the house his mother exhibited signs of restlessness under the constraint of being borne along, as if his arms were irksome to her.  He lowered her upon his knees and looked around.  The point they had now reached, though far from any road, was not more than a mile from the Blooms-End cottages occupied by Fairway, Sam, Humphrey, and the Cantles.  Moreover, fifty yards off stood a hut, built of clods and covered with thin turves, but now entirely disused.  The simple outline of the lonely shed was visible, and thither he determined to direct his steps.  As soon as he arrived he laid her down carefully by the entrance, and then ran and cut with his pocketknife an armful of the dryest fern.  Spreading this within the shed, which was entirely open on one side, he placed his mother thereon; then he ran with all his might towards the dwelling of Fairway.

Nearly a quarter of an hour had passed, disturbed only by the broken breathing of the sufferer, when moving figures began to animate the line between heath and sky.  In a few moments Clym arrived with Fairway, Humphrey, and Susan Nunsuch; Olly Dowden, who had chanced to be at Fairway’s, Christian and Grandfer Cantle following helter-skelter behind.  They had brought a lantern and matches, water, a pillow, and a few other articles which had occurred to their minds in the hurry of the moment.  Sam had been despatched back again for brandy, and a boy brought Fairway’s pony, upon which he rode off to the nearest medical man, with directions to call at Wildeve’s on his way, and inform Thomasin that her aunt was unwell.

Sam and the brandy soon arrived, and it was administered by the light of the lantern; after which she became sufficiently conscious to signify by signs that something was wrong with her foot.  Olly Dowden at length understood her meaning, and examined the foot indicated.  It was swollen and red.  Even as they watched the red began to assume a more livid colour, in the midst of which appeared a scarlet speck, smaller than a pea, and it was found to consist of a drop of blood, which rose above the smooth flesh of her ankle in a hemisphere.

“I know what it is,” cried Sam.  “She has been stung by an adder!”

“Yes,” said Clym instantly.  “I remember when I was a child seeing just such a bite.  O, my poor mother!”

“It was my father who was bit,” said Sam.  “And there’s only one way to cure it.  You must rub the place with the fat of other adders, and the only way to get that is by frying them.  That’s what they did for him.”

“’Tis an old remedy,” said Clym distrustfully, “and I have doubts about it.  But we can do nothing else till the doctor comes.”

“’Tis a sure cure,” said Olly Dowden, with emphasis.  “I’ve used it when I used to go out nursing.”

“Then we must pray for daylight, to catch them,” said Clym gloomily.

“I will see what I can do,” said Sam.