The light moved.

A little later as he crashed hurriedly through the underbrush, Diane called to him.

She was holding a lantern high above something on the ground, her face quite colorless.
"I'm glad you're here!" she said.

"It's the aviator, Johnny.

He's hurt--" The aviator stirred.
"He's comin' 'round," said Johnny peering down into the white face in the aureole of lantern-light.