“Dying,” I said sadly, as I took my seat before him.
“Oh! I say, not so bad as that, Joe Carstairs! It takes a lot to kill a fellow like Jimmy. He’ll come all right again. Here, set to and have a good feed. You must want it awfully.”
“I can’t eat,” I said bitterly. “I liked poor old Jimmy. A better fellow never breathed. He saved your life yesterday.”
“Ah! that he did,” said Jack; “and it’s all right. The doctor says—Hullo! what’s that?”
I started to my feet, for a horrible scream rang through the woods from the direction where poor Jimmy lay; and a pang shot through me as I felt that it was a new throe being suffered by my poor black comrade—comrade soon to be no more.
Chapter Seventeen.
How the Doctor gave Jimmy his Physics.
I could not move for a few moments, the terrible cry and the shrieks that followed seemed to rob me of all power; but overcoming this paralysing feeling at last, I ran towards where poor Jimmy lay, the thought flashing upon my mind that the doctor must be performing some operation to try and save the poor fellow’s life.