“I won’t be silent,” cried Mr Preddle. “Here, Dale, take this; I’ve pushed it through as far as I can reach. Give it him. Brandy.”
“Ah!” ejaculated Mr Frewen. “Quick.”
I had already reached out with the hand which I had taken from Hampton’s wrist, and was fishing about with it in the dark, but without a bite.
“Where is it?” I cried; but as I spoke my knuckles came in contact with the leather-covered flask so sharply, that I knocked it out of Mr Preddle’s hand, and it fell with a bang on the floor, upon which the spirit began to gurgle out.
Bob Hampton groaned, and I felt that all was over; but hanging on to the rope I bent down, and guided by the sound seized the flask, gave it a shake, which told me that there was yet a good deal inside, and the next moment I was holding it to the poor fellow’s lips, and listening to the gurgling the spirit made as he gulped quite a couple of mouthfuls down.
I knew he had taken it all, for I had at last raised the flask quite upright, and he drew his lips away.
“Now, Hampton,” whispered Mr Frewen, “hold on for a little till the spirit begins to stimulate you.”
“It’s begun a’ready, doctor,” was the answer. “It’s put new life into me, sir, and I’m going to make a try for it directly.”
“Not for a minute, man, not for a minute.”
“In half a minute, sir, or it’s of no good, for I’m a heavy man.”