There was no
spring near that he knew of; he went back to their lunch basket and
brought from it a bottle of claret--all he could find--and with it
wetted Daisy's lips and brow. The claret did perhaps as well as cold
water; for Daisy revived; but as soon as she sat up and began to move,
her words were broken off by a scream of pain.
"What is it, Daisy?" said the Captain. "Your foot?--that confounded
stone!--can't you move it?"
"No,"--said Daisy with a short breath, "I can't move it. Please excuse
me, Capt. Drummond--I couldn't help crying out that minute; it hurt me
so. It doesn't hurt me so much now when I keep still."
The Captain kept still too, wishing very much that he and Daisy and the
trilobites were all back in their places again. How long could they sit
still up there on the mountain? He looked at the sun; he looked at his
watch. It was three o'clock. He looked at Daisy.
"Let me see," said he, "if anything is the matter. Hard to find out,
through this thick boot! How does it feel now?"
"It pains me very much, these two or three minutes."
The Captain looked at Daisy's face again, and then without more ado took
his knife and cut the lacings of the boot.
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