This was too much. The tears welled up in the boy’s eyes, but he mastered his emotion, and kept on laying the saturated bandages upon his brother’s brow, watching by him hour after hour, forgetful of everything, till all at once there was a loud, deep barking, and Duke trotted into the house, to come up to the bedside, raise himself up, and begin pawing at the friend he had not seen for so long.
“It’s no good, Duke, old chap,” said Dyke sadly; “he don’t know you. Go and lie down, old man. Go away.”
The dog dropped down on all-fours at once, and quickly sought his favourite place in one corner of the room, seeming to comprehend that he was not wanted there, and evidently understanding the order to lie down.
The coming of the dog was followed by the approach of the wagon, and the lowing of the bullocks as they drew near to their familiar quarters; the cows answered, and Duke leaped up and growled, uttering a low bark, but returned to his corner as soon as bidden.
At first Dyke had felt stunned by the terrible calamity which had overtaken his brother; but first one and then another thing had been suggested to his mind, and the busy action had seemed to clear his brain.
This cool application had certainly had some effect; and as he changed the handkerchief again, he saw plainly enough what he must do next.
Wiping his hands, he sought for paper and pencil, and wrote in a big round hand:
“I came home and found my brother here, at Kopfontein, bad with fever. He does not know me. Pray send to fetch a doctor.”
He folded this, then doubled it small, and tied it up with a piece of string, after directing it to “Herr Hans Morgenstern, at the Store.”
This done, he once more changed the wet handkerchiefs, and went out to find Jack outspanning the cattle, and talking in a loud voice to his wife.