"Water near by? No; but in the coat pocket is a bottle--there it is--that may be as good--great God!"
Oswald washed the sick man's forehead with the brandy; he became more quiet.
"How did this happen?" he asked.
"Why, I don't know," cried the steward, in a sad voice. "I came riding up here because the fellow was idling too long in the wood, to help him to move faster; there he sits on a stump and does not stir. What are you sitting there for? I say. Why should I not sit here? says he. Are you drunk again? says I, for I saw his eyes were quite watery and his bottle lay empty by his side. Drunk yourself! says he. You infamous rascal! says I. Rascal yourself! says he. Well, doctor, I couldn't stand that, of course. So, down from my horse and a few good licks upon his back was all done in a moment. He, in perfect rage, makes at me--all of a sudden he falls down like an ox, and commences--a, great God, he is at it again. I never saw the like in all my life!"
The man had another attack of spasms. Oswald began to fear the worst "Quick, quick!" he said. "Down with the wood from the wagon; we must drive him home slowly. In the mean time somebody must go for the doctor."
"Yes, yes; I'll go for the doctor!" cried the steward, glad to escape, and one foot in the stirrup.
"You stay here!" commanded Oswald; "how can I lift the man without you? Are you not ashamed, Mr. Wrampe, to be such a coward? Take an example of Bruno!"
Bruno had helped Oswald as well as he could; now he was standing on the wagon, throwing down the wood with great energy. "I will go for the doctor, Oswald!" he said, jumping down.
"I presume that will be the best, Bruno," said the latter. "You know the road, and I cannot well leave him. Shorten his stirrups, Mr. Wrampe!"
"Directly," said the latter, but Bruno had done it already, and with one effort, without using the stirrups, he was in the saddle and had the bridle in his hand. The fiery horse, feeling the light burden, reared.