The old man was breathing heavily, and
his legs were completely buried under fallen earth.
"Is it Master Roy?" he said, as Roy came over and took hold of his hand;
"ay, you shouldn't have imprisoned yourself with me, laddie--I didn't
rightly think of what you were doing--I'm--I'm in such pain!"
"Are you very hurt? Oh, dear, what can I do? I can't lift you. Are your
legs broken?"
"I don't rightly know. If you could shift a little of the earth off, may
be it would ease me!"
Roy looked round and then delightedly seized hold of a small shovel.
"Your shovel is here. I'll do it," he said, cheerfully, and then to work
he went. The soil was fortunately not heavy to remove, but there was a
great quantity of it before poor old Principle's legs were liberated.
Roy toiled on, hot and breathless, longing that help should come, his
own fatigue forgotten in his pity for the helpless old man.
"Can you lift yourself up, old Principle? I really think I've got the
earth off your legs--at least most of it!"
There was a struggle, then a groan.
"I'm afraid not, laddie. 'Tis the power that has quite gone out of them.
I'm fearing that old Principle will be never roaming the hills again,
but there 'tis the Lord's will, and He never do make mistakes.
Pages:
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135