to persist.

"He breathes!" he whispered at last.

"Yes, he has been breathing for some time," replied Ardan, quietly,
still unconsciously speaking French. "A little more rubbing and pulling
and pounding will make him as spry as a young grasshopper."

They worked at him, in fact, so vigorously, intelligently and
perseveringly, that, after what they considered a long hour's labor,
they had the delight of seeing the pale face assume a healthy hue, the
inert limbs give signs of returning animation, and the breathing become
strong and regular.

At last, Barbican suddenly opened his eyes, started into an upright
position on the sofa, took his friends by the hands, and, in a voice
showing complete consciousness, demanded eagerly:

"Ardan, M'Nicholl, are we moving?"

His friends looked at each other, a little amused, but more perplexed.
In their anxiety regarding their own and their friend's recovery, they
had never thought of asking such a question. His words recalled them at
once to a full sense of their situation.

"Moving? Blessed if I can tell!" said Ardan, still speaking French.

"We may be lying fifty feet deep in a Florida marsh, for all I know,"
observed M'Nicholl.