She wanted to cry with relief, to hold him close and tell him how much she loved him – but there was little time to be emotional if they were to get out before the fire came through – so all she said was, ‘You’ve got a nasty cut there, and a bump the size of an egg on the back of your head – but you’ll live.’

‘What the hell are you doing wandering about out here anyway?’ he asked as she put a pad of gauze over the wound and bound it with a length of bandage.

‘Looking for you, to warn you about the damned fire,’ she retorted. ‘I’ve been calling and calling for hours. Why didn’t you answer me?’

‘It was Brandy that heard you. I must have been knocked out when I fell.’ He tried to move and couldn’t disguise the flinch of pain. ‘Could you look at my leg?’ he asked. ‘I think it might be broken.’

Sally’s hands were shaking as she shone the torch on it. ‘I really can’t tell,’ she replied. ‘But it’s swollen, so best to splint it before I get you out of here.’

‘Don’t fuss,’ he said impatiently. ‘Just give me your hand and I’ll get out of here on my own.’

‘If you’re so clever, then why haven’t you done it already?’ she snapped back at him, her relief that she’d found him after the fear making her sharp.

She looked around, gathered up the large satchel which had spilled out sketchbooks, pencils and charcoal, rammed everything back in and picked up his walking stick.

Max slung the satchel over his shoulder and, grasping her arm, leaned heavily on his walking stick as he struggled to stand. His expression was grimly determined, but it was clear from the hiss of his breath and the way the colour drained from his face that he was in a lot of pain.

‘You won’t be able to climb up there,’ she said as she eyed the slope. ‘Is there somewhere that’s not so steep?’

He shook his head. ‘I tried coaxing the ponies down, but they didn’t like the look of it either. You’d better leave me here to sort myself out, Sal. I can smell the fire now.’

‘I’m not going anywhere without you,’ she insisted as she grabbed a tree root and began to scramble back up the slope.

The two mares had been hobbled and couldn’t run away, but they shied, stamped and shook their heads, making it difficult for her to grab hold of them. Selecting the sturdier of the two, Sal wound her fingers in her mane, unfastened the rope tied round her front legs and used it as a makeshift halter.