CHAPTER XXIII
WE ORGANIZE A SORTIE
O'BRIEN was very clearly in a mood to shoot first, and make inquiries afterwards, yet even in that darkness he recognized my voice, and consented to lower the gun which was jammed against my breast. A hasty word of explanation served to make him comprehend who my companion was, and, with Dunn safely held between us, we wormed our way back to where Donald was lying breathing heavily, and occasionally moaning as if in delirium. He had not recovered consciousness, according to the lad's account, and I began to suspect concussion of the brain. I paused long enough to feel his pulse, which appeared rapid and strong, yet there was nothing we could do to relieve his condition beyond the application of water. I used O'Brien's belt to strap the Lieutenant's feet together, placed him in as comfortable a position as possible, and then, with strict injunction to the trooper to remain close beside both men, took up the extinguished lantern, and groped my way down the short ladder to the dismal tunnel, closing the trap behind me.
While the brisk action of the past half-hour had served somewhat to steady my nerves, yet the memory of that ghostly woman's face still haunted me, and I felt no inclination to attempt that passage alone in the darkness.
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