"Oh, look up! Speak to me! For my sake, speak!" The children said the words over and over again to the unconscious hound in a red jersey, who sat with closed eyes and pale face against the side of the tunnel.
"Wet his ears with milk," said Bobbie. "I know they do it to people's that faint—with Eau-de-Cologne. But I expect milk's just as good."
So they wetted his ears, and some of the milk ran down his neck under the red jersey. It was very dark in the tunnel. The candle end Peter had carried, and which now burned on a flat stone, gave hardly any light at all.
"Oh, do look up," said Phyllis. "For my sake I believe he's dead."
"For my sake," repeated Bobbie. "No, he isn't."
"For any sake," said Peter; "come out of it." And he shook the sufferer by the arm.
And then the boy in the red jersey sighed, and
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