The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

fighting back a feeling of panic. She could hear Philippine’s quick breathing behind her. “Are you all right?” she asked in a louder voice than she intended. Then she tried to continue more normally, “The well’s just ahead. Good grief, they’ve left the cover off altogether!”
    “Yes, I see it. It’s O.K.” Philippine barely whispered the words. Then she leant forward and muttered in Fredericka’s ear. “But, mon Dieu, we are being followed! I know it! I can hear someone behind me! Footsteps! Listen—who could possibly?—Oh—My God… Now—damn—I—I’ve dropped the flashlight!”
    The light went out suddenly and the suffocating darkness closed around them. Fredericka turned back to Philippine and reached out her hand but, as she did so, something crashed down on her head and she pitched forward to fall down—down—down into a black sea of oblivion.
    When Fredericka opened her eyes she closed them again quickly to shut out the light that blinded her and was a knife thrust through her temples. Then, after a moment, she tried again, slowly and cautiously. The effort was painful, not only to her eyes but to her whole body. She must know where she was and what had happened to her, and why she was in such agony. But it was no use, she could not think—could not even keep her eyes open. She closed them and drifted off again into unconsciousness.
    * * * *
    It was a long time later when she again struggled to open her eyes. A familiar voice was calling her name and some instinct told her that she must answer. It was important to make herself heard. But at first she could not speak. Then she moved her body slightly and the pain was so great that she cried out wildly.
    “Thank God,” and then, “Oh—thank God you’re alive,” the voice said. But it seemed to be coming from miles away—somewhere far above her.
    She tried to raise her head and felt the sharpness of rock dig into her shoulders. Then, gradually, she eased her back forward from the hard wall behind it, and looked up to see a round gray hole broken by a darker shadow against its rim. As she tried to puzzle this out, the shadow moved and the voice spoke again.
    “Fredericka, can you hear me?”
    “It’s Peter,” she cried feebly, before she closed her eyes again. Now everything would be all right. She was alive and Peter had come. But he couldn’t take away the pain. Pain and darkness. Darkness and pain. Anyway she had spoken. He had heard her. Now there was no need to struggle any more.
    When Fredericka next opened her eyes, the pain was still there stabbing at her head but the hardness of rock behind her had become strangely soft. She looked up cautiously and saw a pleasant female face bending over her. She tried to speak but no words came.
    The face disappeared and then another one took its place.
    “Peter,” she whispered.
    “Yes. Don’t talk now. Rest is what the doctor’s ordered and you look as though you could do with it.”
    “But what—what happened?” Then as memory came back slowly she forced herself to say slowly: “Where’s Philippine? Is she all right?”
    “Yes to that one, too. Now go to sleep. You are bruised and battered.” He grinned. “My God, if you could see your face! And nothing more serious than a bashed head, a broken left arm, and a broken right ankle. You’ll recover. But not another word for twenty-four hours.”
    Before Fredericka could find the words to speak again, he had disappeared. Then the woman came back, and this time she said: “I’m going to lift you up a little to drink some hot milk, but I’ll try not to hurt you. Then you’ll go back to sleep again, and when you wake up you’ll feel better—much better.”
    “All right,” Fredericka said, as though each of the two words was of the greatest importance.
    The woman slid an arm under her shoulders and lifted her gently. Fredericka found she could hold the cup in her good hand and she drank gratefully. Then she was lowered back on to the pillow and fell instantly to sleep.
    This time when Fredericka woke up, the sun was streaming across her bed and the air coming in the open window beside her smelt of hay and tansy. She felt hot and sticky but the pain had gone. She moved her body cautiously and felt stiffness and soreness—no more. She looked around her with interest at the very white room and the large open screened window. Hospital, she decided, and—remembering the woman’s face—that must have been a nurse.