"Thou best of friends," he whispered.

"Thou--" Then he stopped, closing his eyes with a groan.

They were lifting him on the stretcher, and the pain caused by the movement made him faint.
It was a slow journey down the slippery mountain path.

The men who carried him had to pick their steps carefully.

At the inn the little cuckoo came out of the clock in the hall and called eleven, half past, and midnight, before the even tramp, tramp of approaching feet made the Little Colonel run to the door for the last time.
"They're comin', mothah," she whispered, with a frightened face, and then ran back to hide her eyes while the men passed up the steps with their unconscious burden.