The pain caused from handling him roused the brave spirit to consciousness, and opening his eyes he looked around wonderingly.
"Well, Hiram! it is all over with me, old fellow."
"I hope not, Leonard; can't you turn a little, and let me feel for the ball?"
"It is of no use; I am torn all to pieces. Take me out of this dirt, on the fresh grass somewhere."
"I must first extract the ball. Aubrey, can you help me raise him a little?"
Administering some chloroform, he soon succeeded in taking out the ball, and, with Russell's assistance, passed a bandage round the body.
"There is no chance for me, Hiram; I know that. I have few minutes to live. Some water."
Russell put a cup to his white lips, and calling in the assistance of Cyrus, who had followed his master, they carried him several yards farther, and made him comfortable, while orders were despatched for an ambulance.
A horrible convulsion seized him at this moment, and so intense was the agony that a groan burst through his set teeth, and he struggled to rise. Russell knelt down and rested the haughty head against his shoulder, wiping off the cold drops that beaded the pallid brow. After a little while, lifting his eyes to the face bending over him, Major Huntingdon gazed into the melancholy black eyes, and said, almost in a whisper—
"I little thought I should ever owe you thanks. Aubrey, forgive me all my hate; you can afford to do so now. I am not a brute; I know magnanimity when I see it. Perhaps I was wrong to visit Amy's sins on you; but I could not forgive her. Aubrey, it was natural that I should hate Amy's son."