“That’s right; go on. Keep bathing his face.”
Then I heard Esau speak in a faint choking voice.
“Oh, sir! oh, sir! He won’t die, will he? Tell me he won’t die.”
“I tell you to keep on bathing his face. There, take that basket and throw the wretched gold back into the stream. The basket will hold a little water at the bottom. No, no! squeeze what you have in your handkerchief first over his face.”
There was a cool refreshing sensation on my face directly after, and all the time I could hear that Esau was in great trouble, for he kept on softer with a curious moaning voice—
“Oh—oh—oh—oh!”
It seemed very strange, and sounded to me as if it was all occurring some distance off, and I wanted to shout to him, and ask what was the matter. But Mr Raydon was still leaning over me, pulling me about it seemed, and a sharp pain suddenly shot through me, and made me wince.
“Don’t—don’t,” I said, faintly; but he kept on burning me, so it seemed to me, with a red-hot iron in the chest; and after doing this for some time, while Esau kept on after a bit making his low moaning sound and splashing water over my face, Mr Raydon turned me over, and began burning me on the back.
I wanted to struggle, and tell him to leave off, but no words would come; and he kept on hurting me dreadfully, and pushing me about, for what seemed to be a terribly long time, before he turned me again upon my back.
“Oh, do tell me, sir, please do tell me, whether he’ll die,” I heard Esau say again, and I fancied that I caught sight of him through a thick cloud.