"Well, that is--better," he murmured faintly.

He did not speak again for some time. Pollyanna, watching his
face, wondered if he were asleep. She did not think he was. He
looked as if his lips were tight shut to keep back moans of pain.
Pollyanna herself almost cried aloud as she looked at his great,
strong body lying there so helpless. One hand, with fingers
tightly clenched, lay outflung, motionless. The other, limply
open, lay on the dog's head. The dog, his wistful, eager eyes on
his master's face, was motionless, too.

Minute by minute the time passed. The sun dropped lower in the
west and the shadows grew deeper under the trees. Pollyanna sat
so still she hardly seemed to breathe. A bird alighted fearlessly
within reach of her hand, and a squirrel whisked his bushy tail
on a tree-branch almost under her nose--yet with his bright
little eyes all the while on the motionless dog.

At last the dog pricked up his cars and whined softly; then he
gave a short, sharp bark. The next moment Pollyanna heard voices,
and very soon their owners appeared three men carrying a
stretcher and various other articles.

The tallest of the party--a smooth-shaven, kind-eyed man whom
Pollyanna knew by sight as "Dr. Chilton"--advanced cheerily.

"Well, my little lady, playing nurse?"

"Oh, no, sir," smiled Pollyanna. "I've only held his head--I
haven't given him a mite of medicine. But I'm glad I was here."