LITERATURE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6695, 7 November 1889, Page 1

LITERATURE.

ON THE BRINK OF DEATH. [By G. Manville Fenn.] (Coucludad.)

Chafteb 111.

*' Yes, Scot; thißwill not do/ he said, aa he rose, and then bent down and patted the collie on the head, "We shall be alone to-morrow, and — good Heaven! — I shall have to bnry him out here alone! Alone!" He "made a fierce effort to master hia emotion, and strode back to the hut to stand looking in at the open door, till a discordant laugh from one of the tree 3 made him start, and look round at the great kingfisher seated on a bars twig. Then came a loud whistling and screaming, aa a flock of gaily-coloured parrots flew into the branches, and began climbing from bouph to bough. But Adam Eudd said nothing, heard nothing, for a sudden thought had come upon him — one so terrible that for a time he trembled. But as he stood there, the thought grew and grew till at last he walked slowly into the wool-shed, and let himself go down upon his knee 3, to remain for a few moments, with eyes closed, hands clasped, and head bent. Then he Btarted up quickly. "Yea! the only chance." he said; "and, i Heaven help me, I will — I will!" He walked quickly back to the hut, while the sun was beginning to turn the waters to gold j and as he reached the door, and walked in, the reflected light filled the rough place with a soft glow, which seemed to brighten his brother's countenance, and sent a pang of despair to the watcher's heart. " Awake, Jeff ?" he said, gently, as he went in and knelt by the rough bed. "Tea, lad. What a lovely sunset. Perhaps it is the last I shall ever see." Adam tried to speak, but no words would come, and he watched, with a strange feeling of awe, the look of calm content he could read in hia brother's eyeß. Then a SDaßm crossed his own face, and he caught Geoffrey's hand in his, and whispered to him, Geoffrey turned and looked at him wildly. The calm content was gone. There wa3 no longer resignation in Mb eyes, but the look of one to whom the hope of escape was held out. "Ad," he gasped, heavily; "have you the pluck to do it, lad ?" "I— l think so. Yea." "And will you?" There -was no reply. Adam knelt thera with his teeth sec, staring at the rough bark Bide of his hut. "Adam ! Don't hold out hope to me and drive it all away again," panted Jeff. " Brother— for mercy's sake ! Yea — you shall! Strengthen Thou hia arm! I will live— l will live!" And hs burst into a hysterical fit of moaning. Adam Sudd rose from his knees and took the tin mug, half filled it from the tub of water in the outer shed, threw part away and once more dropped a portion of the essence into the clear fluid. "Drink that, Jeff," he said, in a cold, harsh, voice. " I'm going to try." Geoffrey drained the contents of the pannikin, and then grasped bis brother's hand in a long, firm grip. "It's my only chance, Ad," he said at last. "Come what may, it's your duty, lad. Be a man." "Come what may, if s my duty, lad,' Baid the great fellow, in a low, hoarse voice- " I'm going to do it — like a man." Adam Bndd strode out of the hut and round to the baok, to the big lean-to-shed they made their workshop, and there he stood with his brows knotted, trying hard to recall all he had ever heard or read about the action in such a case as this. He remained motionless for fully ten minutes, and then he waa at work with almost feverish energy. His first act was to take a stock-whip from where it hung, and cut off a portion ef ita plaited hide lash. This he laid on a bench, and turned back into the hut, to go to a chest and take out a neatly-folded tablecloth, with which he hurried baok. It was a clean, glossy piece of damask linen, packed by loving hands for the young settlers' use when they left horne — packed by loving hands for their use, and sever used till now, and for a purpose no mother could have divined. With quick movements Adam cut this into strips — some narrow some broad; and, as if by instinct, rolled them up tightly, and thrust them within his breast. Needles and thread he knew he had within, but he wanted to be prepared without letting his brother see; and he carefully ravelled out some of the new linen thread, and placed that in his pocket. Whatnexfc? The whip handle waa placed ready on the bench, and he stood thinking for a few minutes before taking from their tool chest a small tenon saw, almost as new as when it left the manufacturer's hands. That was placed beside the other articles, and then he went out to the end of the tool-ahed, to the place they used as shop when an occasional lamb was killed. Here from a leather loop, where it hung in company with others, he took a long, straight knife, shuddered, but was firm again directly, as he walked back to the work-shed, poured some water in the trough beneath, set the treadle in motion, the grindstone spinning round, and ground blade and point to a keen edge. There was a strange coolness in all this, but, as he told himself, he was preparing weapons to fight with death. "Is this all ?" he said, aa he wiped the keen blade. He could think of nothing else but sponge and bowl of water; and at last, with a towel thrown over bis ghastlyparaphernalia he walked with firm step back into the hut where his brother lay watching him. He could not look him in the face, but hastily laid what he had brought close down by the skin bed, and then stood hesitating. - That hesitation was but ' momentary, and he turned to his brother, who was ghastly pale. "Jeff!" he said, and he spoke with averted eyeo, " it ib your only chance." "Yea," came faintly from the sufferer, &8 he caught his brother's hand ; " but, Ad, I dare not." "No," said Adam, with his eyes fixed upon the knife at his feet; "and now it has come to the point, I dare not. It would be madness." The brothers remained in this position for a time, and then, with his lips quivering, Geoffrey said, in alow voice— " The coward fit has passed, Ad, Go on !" "No, no!" said the other hoarsely. "It iB my only chance, Ad, and life seems so sweet now that it is gliding away. Adam— brother— l want to see the sun again. .Quick! I will bear it. It ia my only chance." . Adam Eudd uttered a curious, hoarse Bound, as now for the first time he looked hia brother in the eyes; and quiokly bending over him he passed his arm under hia neck, and Msßedhis lips as he had often kissed him when they were little children. Then he lowered him gently back, closed his eyes for a few moments, and when he opened them again the man seemed changed. ! "Jeff.»»he. said, in % huaky but firm voice, "yon must bear it without straggling. If yon lie still there glaring at me,

I will do it, and you must help me as if it were some other man." "Yes ; I'm ready." " Hold thoae bandages, and that thread I shall want the thread first. Be ready. Got them. "Yes." "Lie back, and shut your eyes. I'll speak when I want you to help. Are you rea*v ?" "Yea." "In God's name, Amen!" muttered Adam, as, after a glance to see that all he required was there, he laid bare the bandaged limb, stripped off the wrapping, and Baw with even his inexperienced eyes that there was no time to lose, for the terrible signs of mortification were spreading fa&t. With the quick, clever hands of a man accustomed to use every kind of tool, he passed the leather whipthong beneath the limb well up towards the hip, tied it tightly round, took out his pocket knife, aud passed the firm, round handle under the thong, searching thoughtfully with his fingers the while. " It must be somewhere here," ho Baid, as he pressed the knife down, and then thrusting the short whip handle under the thong he twisted it round and round, tightening the leather lash till it pressed the knife handle into the flesh, and the thong itself waa almost buried before he ceased, and secured the handle so that it should not untwist. Then, feeling satisfied that he could do no more to check the circulation of the blood, ho paused for a few moments, and, with the skill born from many dealings with their cattle, he took the knife, made the firat plunge right through the leg, and a rapid cut. Then a second. The kDife was once more free. There was a rapid manipulation of the saw, and the nexfc minute, in spite or his ignorance, the operator was busy trying arteries, and checking the flow of the current of life. rf Horrible — clumsy — rough— it was all three; but, a3 the man worked with feverish energy, doing things at which a skilled surgeon would have smiled, he had the satisfaction of seeing that he was not toiling without effect, and when at last he had sown, and bandaged, and bound, and paused to gaze at his patient as one who awakens from a feverish dream, he uttered a wild cry, flung himself upon his knees and held his brother's hands in hia. "Jeff!" he cried, "speak to me! speak! He's dead ! He's dead ! " Chapter IV. Not dead, though lying utterly exhausted from shock and the terrible loss of blood; but, after a time, the eyes unclosed to look dimly and vacantly round before resting on those of his brother, when there was a faint look of recognition, a smile, and the eyes closed again, the feeble pressure of the hand relaxed, and Adam rose to get the brandy from a rough cupboard ; but when he returned his inquiring gaze could not doubfe tho right answer he received :— Sleeping ! Hours passed before Geoffrey Eudd unclosed his eyes again to find a candle burning on the rough table and the rays of the full moon flooding the place with light, and Bilvering the crisp hair of the man who watched- at his feet. "Brave lad!" he whispered in response to his brother's question. " Brave lad 1 " "'Are you in much pain ? " "Pretty well; but I don't complain." " Don't talk, Jeff ; you must rest— only tell me with a 100k — for Mary's sake. You won't die, Jeff, and leave me here." " Please Heaven no," came in a whisper so faint that it was hardly heard. " Let me sleep." a c * # # A week of feverish pain and suffering, such as a man would suffer under such unskilled hands; but there were love, hope, faith, a strong constitution, and the free, pure air of a lovely land, all ready to aid ; and the consequence was that after hanging, as it were, between life and death, the grim shade grew fainter and fainter, till it faded right away. Extract from a letter sent home : — Ho quite spoilel me, and I tell him he might as well have had off the other leg. But seriously, Mary, it waa a brava deed— one that makes me proud of him os tho bravest brother that ever lived, And now, darling, good-bye. I have tried to write lightly, but my heart is very sore. I have done my duty, for it would be the act of a selfish coward to ask you to keep to your engagement to such a man as I. Mary Sinclair read the letter once, and tore it up. Then she wrote a long reply, and tore that up. Then she did as any true, brave girl would have done under the circumstances : agreed with Adam's intended that it was quite time they went to Australians the engagement had lasted long enough. Within six months there were rejoicings up at tho Gap.