“You heard of that, did you? Well, I wished then, as I’ve wished a good many times since, that they had finished me off, for I should have been spared a good many hours of suffering; but I suppose it wasn’t to be,” he said, with a groan. Nell watched him with a great pity in her heart.
“I made you a small custard; can you eat a little?” she asked, coaxingly, producing a basin and a teaspoon from the basket, which had weighed so heavy during the long hot walk over the hills.
“Food sort of turns me sick,” he said, in feeble protest. But by gentle persuasion she induced him to swallow a few spoonfuls.
“Have you had a doctor?” she asked, with a quick thought to Dr. Russell.
“No; I guess all the doctors in the world could not put me on my feet again,” he answered, listlessly.
“But medicine might ease you a little,” she said, looking at the hard wooden shelf on which he was lying, and thinking how he must suffer from hardship and privation.
“It don’t matter so much now the weather is warm, and I sleep a good bit,” he replied, in a dull tone.
“If you have been ill long, how have you managed to live?” she asked, wondering if it were starvation which had helped to bring him to such a pass.
“It’s real curious, but it’s true, I’ve just been kept alive the last few months by a fluke, as you may say, a mistake that you made a goodish bit ago,” he replied.
“What do you mean?” she asked, in great surprise. She would have believed his mind to be wandering but for the sanity in his eyes.