"Never! but I die happy with your hand in mine."
At this moment Mrs. Coonie, Annie's mother, came in. She was a little woman, with a clay-coloured face, and dressed in the same hue.
She took possession of the case at once with a business-like air.
"Plenty of brandy," she said; "then march him up and down. If he is allowed to sleep, he is a dead man. Black snake, or tiger?"
"Tiger," whispered Lanky.
"Then there's no hope," she said, turning to McKeel; "he'll die when the moon goes down. That's the time they die when bitten by a tiger-snake. At the sea it's when the tide goes out."
"Then there's nae time to lose," said the old man; "I'll read the will in the hearin' o' ye a'. Attend to what I say, Lanky."
"I'm listenin'," he whispered.
McKeel pulled the lamp nearer, adjusted his spectacles, and read as follows:—