“Both-—oh,” sobbed John in the agony of contending with the bumping, fluttering heart which would not let him fetch breath enough to speak.

“You will tell us presently.  Don’t be afraid.  We will wait,” said the voice of the man who, as John now felt, was supporting him.  “Hush, Cecil, another minute, and he will be able to tell us.”

Indeed the rushing of every pulse was again making it vain for Johnny to try to utter anything, and he shut his eyes in the realisation that he had succeeded and found help.  If his heart would have not bumped and fluttered so fearfully, it would have been almost rest, as he was helped up by those kind, strong arms.  It was really for little more than five seconds before he gathered his powers to say, still between gasps—-

“Out all night-—the moraine-—fog-—snow-—Jock-—very bad-—Armine-— worse-—up there.”

“At Schwarenbach ?”

“Yes.  Oh, come!  They are so ill.”

“I am sure Dr. Medlicott will do all he can for them,” said another voice, which John saw proceeded from a very tall, slight youth, with a fair, delicate, girlish face.  “Had he not better get into the carriage and return to the hotel?”

“By all means.”

And John found himself without much volition lifted and helped into the carriage, where Cecil Evelyn scrambled up beside him, and put an arm round him.

“Poor old Monk, you are dead beat,” he said, as the carriage turned, the other two walking beside it.  “Did you come that pace all the way down?”

“Only after the wood.”

“Well, ’twas as plucky a thing as I ever saw.  But is Skipjack so bad?”

“Dreadful!  Light-headed all yesterday-—horrid pain!  But not so bad as Armine.  If something ain’t done soon-—he’ll die.”

“Poor little Brownlow!  You’ve come to the right shop.  Medlicott is first rate.  Did you know it was we?”

“No-—only-—an English doctor,” said John.

“Mother sent us abroad with him, because they said Fordham must have Swiss air; and poor old Granny still goes on in the same state,” said Cecil.  “We got here on Tuesday evening, and saw your names; but then the fog came, and it snowed all yesterday, and the doctor said it would not do for Fordham to go so high.  And the more I wanted them to come up with you, the more they would not.  Were they out in that snow?”

Here came an order from the doctor not to make his friend talk, and Johnny was glad to obey, and reserve his breath for the explanation.  He did not hear what passed between the other two, as they walked behind the carriage.

“A fine fellow that!  Is he Cecil’s friend?”

“No, I wish he were.  However, it can’t be helped now, in common humanity; and my mother will understand.”

“You mean that it was her wish that we should avoid them.”

“She thinks the influence has not been good for Cecil.”