astonished, but quite unhurt. Meg clasped him for a minute, but then
laid him down, and gathered with the others close around Judy.

Oh, the little dark, quiet head, the motionless body, in its pink,
crushed frock, the small, thin, outspread hands!

"Judy!" Pip said, in a voice of beseeching agony. But the only
answer was the wind at the tree-tops and the frightened breathings
of the others.

Mr. Gillet remembered there was no one to act but himself. He went
with Pip to the stockman's hut; and they took the door off its
leather hinges and carried it down the hill.

"I will lift her," he said, and passed his arms around the little
figure, raising her slowly, slowly, gently upwards, laying her on
the door with her face to the sky.

But she moaned--oh, how she moaned!

Pip, whose heart had leapt to his throat at the first sign of life,
almost went mad as the little sounds of agony burst from her lips.

They raised the stretcher, and bore her up the hill to the little
brown hut at the top.

Then Mr. Gillet spoke, outside the doorway, to Meg and Pip, who
seemed dazed, stunned.

"It will be hours before we can get help, and it is five now," he