“Yes, my lad.”
“Don’t let him touch me,” whispered Nat. “I couldn’t bear to be moved, sir.”
“Not if we carried you gently?”
“No, sir; I feel as if it would kill me. If you could leave me some bread, sir, and some water, and let me alone, I should get well in time. I’m only doing what the dogs do, sir, when they’re hurt. I’ve crawled into a hole, sir, and I shall either die or get well, just the same as they do.”
Fred refused to be convinced, but on trying to raise the poor fellow he seemed to inflict so much agony that he gave up, and felt disposed to return to his first ideas of coming to see the poor fellow from time to time, and giving him food.
“Better, after all, Samson,” he said.
“What, leaving him, sir?”
“Yes. You do not want to see him a prisoner?”
“I don’t want to see him at all, sir. He has disgraced his family by fighting against his brother. Did you bring anything to cover him up, sir?”
“No, Samson, I did not think of that.”