“And I felt the same,” chimed in Wilton.
“But as soon as the demand was made upon me I forgot everything in the excitement, and I feel now ready to go on for hours.”
“Yes,” said Wilton; “I feel as if Lee had been injecting new life through my veins. We’ve got all the benefit, while the poor mule is worse.”
“Not much, sir,” cried Griggs. “Look at that!”
There was no need for the order, every eye being directed at the injured animal, which after lying quiescent upon its side with outstretched neck and no signs of life save the slow, regular heaving of its flank, suddenly uttered a hoarse shout, gathered itself together, and rose quickly to its feet, to stand breathing heavily and coughing.
“Why, I do believe he’s mastering the poison, doctor, and coming round.”
There was no reply, every one being intent upon the mule’s movements.
The hard breathing gradually ceased, and the poor brute shook itself, stamped with its injured hind-leg heavily, shook itself again, uttered an angry squeal, and curving itself round reached at the wound to bite the skin, acting, as Chris afterwards said, just as if it had been bitten by a fly. The next moment it straightened itself again, stretched out its neck, and whinnied in a way which brought answers from some of its companions, and then dropped upon its knees and rolled over, struggling a little before lying still, its last breath coming in a weary sigh.