Jaspar Hume saw a form reclining on a great bundle of pine branches, and
he knew what Rose Lepage had prayed for was come to pass. By the
flickering light of a handful of fire he saw Lepage--rather what was left
of him--a shadow of energy, a heap of nerveless bones. His eyes were
shut, but as Hume, with a quiver of memory and sympathy at his heart,
stood for an instant, and looked at the man whom he had cherished as a
friend and found an enemy, Lepage's lips moved and a weak voice said:
"Who is there?"
"A friend."
"Come-near-me,--friend."
Hume made a motion to Late Carscallen, who was heating some liquor at the
fire, and then he stooped and lifted up the sick man's head, and took his
hand. "You have come--to save me!" whispered the weak voice again.
"Yes; I've come to save you." This voice was strong and clear and true.
"I seem--to have--heard--your voice before--somewhere before--I seem
to--have--"
But he had fainted.
Hume poured a little liquor down the sick man's throat, and Late
Carscallen chafed the delicate hand--delicate in health, it was like that
of a little child now. When breath came again Hume whispered to his
helper "Take Cloud-in-the-Sky and get wood; bring fresh branches.
Pages:
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46