“Then you killed him for love of his wife, and hate of himself?”
“Yes, I did. Who are you that have guessed that? Who are you? I’ll have your life.”
As he said this, he started up in his bed-place, awakened by his dream, and probably by my voice, which he had replied to.
“Who spoke?” said he. “Frank Henniker, did you speak?”
I made no reply, but pretended to be sound asleep, as he still sat up, as if watching me. I feigned a snore.
“It could not have been him,” muttered Jackson, “he’s quite fast. Mercy, what a dream!”
He then sank down in his bed-place, and I heard the gurgling noise which told me that he had put the bottle of liquor to his mouth, and was drinking out of it. From the time that the gurgling lasted, he must have taken a great deal. At last, all was quiet again.
“So I have discovered it at last,” said I, as my blood boiled at what I had heard. “He did murder my father. Shall I kill him while he sleeps?” was the first thought that came into my troubled mind. “No, I won’t do that. What then, shall I tax him with it when he is awake, and then kill him?” but I thought, that, as he was blind, and unable to defend himself, it would be cowardly, and I could not do that. What then was I to do? And as I cooled down, I thought of the words of the Bible, that we were to return good for evil; for Jackson, of whom, when I read it, I asked why we were told to do so, had explained it to me, and afterwards when I came to the part which said, “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,” he had told me that there was punishment for the wicked hereafter, and that was the reason why we were not to obey the Jewish law of “an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth,” which I had referred to. This portion of the Bible he had well explained, and certain it is that it prevented my raising my hand against him that night. Still, I remained in a state of great excitement; I felt that it would be impossible for me to be any longer on good terms with him, and I revolved the question in my mind, till, at last, worn out by excitement, I fell fast asleep.
A short time before daylight, I started up at what I thought was a faint cry, but I listened, and hearing nothing more, I again fell asleep, and it was broad daylight when I arose; my first thoughts were naturally of Jackson, and I looked at where he lay, but he was no longer there—his bed-place was empty. I was astonished, and after a moment’s thought, I recollected the cry I had heard in the night, and I ran out of the cabin and looked around me; but I could see nothing of him. I then went to the edge of the flat rock upon which the cabin was built and looked over it; it was about thirty feet from this rock to the one below, and nearly perpendicular. I thought that he must have gone out in the night, when intoxicated with liquor, and have fallen down the precipice; but I did not see him as I peered over. “He must have gone for water,” thought I, and I ran to the corner of the rock, where the precipice was much deeper, and looking over, I perceived him lying down below without motion or apparent life. I had, then, judged rightly. I sat down by the side of the pool of water quite overpowered; last night I had been planning how I should destroy him, and now he lay dead before me without my being guilty of the crime. “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,” were the words that first escaped my lips; and I remained many minutes in deep thought. At last it occurred to me that he might not yet be dead; I ran down the cliff, and, clambering over the rocks, arrived breathless at the spot where Jackson lay. He groaned heavily as I stood by him.
“Jackson,” said I, kneeling down by him, “are you much hurt?” for all my feelings of animosity had vanished when I perceived his unhappy condition. His lips moved, but he did not utter any sound. At last he said, in a low voice, “Water.” I hastened back as fast as I could to the cabin, got a pannikin half full of water, and poured a little rum in it out of the bottle. This journey and my return to him occupied some ten minutes. I put it to his lips, and he seemed to revive. He was a dreadful object to look at. The blood from a cut on his head had poured over his face and beard, which were clotted with gore. How to remove him to the cabin I knew not. It would be hardly possible for me to carry him over the broken rocks which I had climbed to arrive at where he lay; and there was no other way but what was longer, and just as difficult. By degrees he appeared to recover; I gave him more of the contents of the pannikin, and at last he could speak, although with great pain and difficulty. As he did so he put his hand to his side. He was indeed a ghastly object, with his sightless eyeballs, his livid lips, and his face and beard matted with blood.