"No," he replied seriously. "I'm not at all killed. Why should I be
killed?" Then, clearer consciousness returning: "Am I talking rot? What's
happened?"

Ann slipped her arm beneath his shoulders and raised him a little so that
his head rested on her lap.

"You fell," she said, trying to speak calmly. "You were climbing up and you
fell. Where are you hurt, Tony?"

"Oh, I remember.... Yes, I fell--just as I was getting to the top. A rotten
old stump gave way under my foot."

"But where are you hurt?" persisted Ann anxiously.

"I don't think I _am_ hurt." He stretched his limbs tentatively. "No,
there's nothing broken. I feel a bit buzzy in the head, that's all."

He tried to lift himself up, but Ann pressed him back against her knees.

"Don't move! Don't move!" she cried hastily. "Lie still for a few minutes.
Are you sure--_sure_ you're not hurt?"

"Bet you a tenner I'm not," he replied, with the ghost of a grin. "My
head's clearing, too. I was only knocked out of time for a minute. Don't
worry." He put up his hand and touched her cheek. "Why, you're quite pale,
Ann."

"I _felt_ pale--when I saw you fall," she answered grimly. Her spirits were