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The Peril Finders, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 4. Went Off To Sleep |
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_ CHAPTER FOUR. WENT OFF TO SLEEP Chris was, as they say, "fast as a top," but he was the first to awaken in the morning, according to his regular custom, just when the orange sun was beginning to tinge the east, and jumping up and scrambling on his clothes he stepped out into the cool dawn, with the intention of having a look at the bony features which had haunted his dreams. But just as he reached the open doorway and was about to step cautiously inside, there was a faint rustling sound which made his heart seem to stand still with the chill of horror which ran through him, for from out of the darkness where the stranger had been laid a shadowy form rose up and came forward. The feeling of dread was only momentary, though it was succeeded by a strange shrinking from coming face to face with the awe-inspiring object of his solicitude. But the boy stood firm. "There's nothing to be afraid of," he said to himself, and then wonderingly--"You, father!" "Yes, my boy; what is it?" "I only came to see if the man was awake." "Half," said the doctor. "He is slightly conscious at times. You are early, my boy." "Not so early as you are, father," said the boy, smiling. "How long have you been here?" "All through the night, my boy." "Oh!" "I was afraid to leave him--he is so weak. I have had to give him a stimulant every hour to keep him alive. There, go now, and don't talk. I want him to sleep." Chris stole away, and then stood thinking whether he should rouse up Ned to go to one of the pools higher up the nearly-dry river, and bale it out on the chance of getting a few fish after all. But on second thoughts he let his comrade rest and went into the lean-to on the other side of the shanty, where he busied himself in lighting a fire upon the stone and setting the kettle over it, after which he went cautiously indoors, to return again with a tin canister, which upon being opened sent forth a fragrant odour. A few minutes later he was busy over further preparations, but only to be interrupted by the sound of some one at the door giving three or four sharp sniffs in rapid succession. Then--"Pig!" came from inside. "Oh, I say, what a shame! Might have woke a fellow up to have some too." "'Tisn't for me," said Chris gruffly. "Oh no! I suppose not. Who's it for, then?" "The dad: he has been sitting up all night with that poor fellow. I thought he'd like a cup of coffee." "Good boy," said Ned. "I'll take _pig_ back." A few minutes later the two boys were making their way through the rapidly broadening morning, bearing a steaming mug of milkless coffee towards the shed, but only to stop short on hearing a strangely harsh voice talking slowly and solemnly for a few moments, before stopping suddenly, to be followed by a few words from the doctor. Then all was silent for some little time, before Chris whispered sharply-- "Father!" This brought the doctor to the entrance. "Thanks," he said. "Very thoughtful of you, Chris. Go away now." The boys hurried back to the lean-to and made up the fire, to sit talking till the other occupants of the shanty began to stir, and the rough breakfast was prepared. "Been sitting up with the poor fellow all night, Chris?" said Mr Bourne. "Oh, he should have wakened me, and I would have relieved him for half the watch." The doctor was still in the shed, but he joined the rest when breakfast was ready, and answered the inquiries of his companions. "A hopeless case, I am afraid," he said, "but I shall fight it out to the last.--What? Is he sensible?" continued the doctor, in response to a question from Wilton. "At times, but for the most part he keeps wandering about thirst and heat, and wanting to sleep. The poor fellow has evidently suffered terribly." After breakfast the doctor returned to the shed, while the others found business to do about the blighted plantations, but working in a dull, despondent fashion, for the recollection of their previous day's consultation about giving up was still strong in their minds. "There, let it all go for the present," said Wilton, at last. "It's no use to talk about future plans without Lee being here." But the doctor was too busy with his patient to do more than join them at dinner, with no better report, for he felt that the man was gradually sinking. It was the same too at the evening meal, when the necessity of some one sharing the night watch came up for discussion, the doctor consenting to Mr Bourne taking the first half of the night while he snatched a few hours' sleep. The arrangement was carried out, with Doctor Lee ready and alert to take his position by the sufferer's bed at midnight, when Bourne announced that the patient had only moved once, to ask for water. "I think he seems to be better. He is fast asleep now," said Bourne, after saying "Good-night!" and then he left the doctor to himself. It was getting on towards morning when, making a faint rustling amongst the Indian corn-husks, the doctor bent over and laid his cool hand upon his patient's brow. "Who's that?" came in a harsh voice. "The doctor." "Water." This was supplied, and the sufferer lay very quiet for another hour, and then, just as the first faint streaks of dawn appeared, the man asked who was there in a stronger voice, and upon being told, said-- "Yes, that's right; come nearer. I want to speak to you." The doctor bent over his patient, whose voice as he spoke gradually grew stronger and more emphatic, and he went on speaking eagerly till long after sunrise, when he was silent for a few minutes, but only to begin talking uneasily again. But there was silence in the long shed that morning when Chris took in a mug of coffee and came softly out again under the impression that his father's patient was asleep; and when Wilton and Bourne came out they heard this as the report of the stranger's state. Breakfast time soon came, and the doctor joined them as before, ready to answer the first question asked as to how his patient had passed the night. "For the most part talking." "Then he is better?" cried Bourne. "In a way--yes," replied the doctor solemnly, and every eye was fixed upon him now, as Wilton said sharply-- "You mean that he is worse?" "No: better for him, poor fellow," said the doctor sadly. "Nothing whatever could be done, and he was in horrible pain. It is all over now." "You don't mean to say--" began Wilton, and stopped short. "Dead?" said Bourne, in a solemn whisper. "Yes," said the doctor gravely. "The agony he was in passed away about dawn, leaving him calm, patient, and quite in his right senses, talking to me long and earnestly for quite three hours, before he turned away and with a low restful sigh went off to sleep--to wake no more." "You say he talked to you a good deal," said Bourne; "did he say anything about how he came to be in such a terrible state?" "Yes, he related everything to me, clearly," replied the doctor gravely. "Hah!" cried Wilton. "Poor fellow, he must have gone through a great deal. How did it all come to pass?" "Give me time," said the doctor thoughtfully. "I should like to lie down and sleep for a few hours, for I have gone through a good deal since you left us, Bourne. To-night we must lay him to rest. Afterwards I have a great deal that is very startling to tell you both-- to tell you all, I should say, for the boys may hear." _ |
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