" Iris showed the card to the foreman. "Is it near here?" she
asked. "Yes, Miss; we might get him to that place in no time, if there
was a conveyance of any kind to be found." Still preserving her
presence of mind, Fanny pointed in the direction of "The Spaniards"
inn. "We might get what we want there," she said. "Shall I go?"
Iris signed to her to attend to the wounded man, and ascended the
sloping ground. She ran on towards the road. The men, directed by
Fanny, raised the body and slowly followed her, diverging to an easier
ascent. As Iris reached the road, a four-wheel cab passed her. Without
an instant's hesitation, she called to the driver to stop. He pulled up
his horse. She confronted a solitary gentleman, staring out of the
window of the cab, and looking as if he thought that a lady had taken a
liberty with him. Iris allowed the outraged stranger no opportunity of
expressing his sentiments. Breathless as she was, she spoke first.
"Pray forgive me--you are alone in the cab--there is room for a
gentleman, dangerously wounded--he will bleed to death if we don't find
help for him--the place is close by--oh, don't refuse me!" She looked
back, holding fast by the cab door, and saw Fanny and the men slowly
approaching.
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