As well as they can, the two sound men bind up the gaping wound, and stanch the bleeding, and then, between them, tenderly they carry the still senseless hunter back to camp.
It was but a twenty minutes’ journey, slowly as they progressed, yet to Ralph it seemed long hours.
At last they laid the wounded man gently upon his blankets, beneath the shade of the big thorn tree, washed and carefully bound up his dreadful hurt, poured brandy between his poor bloodstained lips, and then—there was nothing else to be done—awaited the event. It was too far to attempt to convey him across the river to the wagons; the slightest movement greatly increased the bleeding from the mouth, and suffocation seemed imminent. Ralph sent Tatenyan across in a canoe for more brandy; for the rest of that weary, hot African day he could only watch and wait.
Bill lay senseless far into the afternoon, breathing out, as it seemed, slowly and very painfully his remaining stock of life. Towards sunset, he opened his eyes feebly, looked about him, and whispered faintly to Ralph, now bending over him with his eyes full of irrestrainable tears, “Where’s the bull?”
“He’s dead, old chap. I settled him after he struck you. Don’t talk much; I’m afraid you’re very badly hurt.”
“Yes,” went on Bill, “he’s about finished me, I think. I was an idiot to follow him into that bush. Cobus was right. Well, I’ve paid dearly for him. Take his head home, old chap, and hang it up. I don’t think I shall see this through; and when you look at the horns, you will think of me, and the good days we had together in the veldt.”
“Don’t, don’t, Bill,” said Ralph. “For God’s sake don’t talk like that. Who knows?—we may pull you through yet. Lie still, and don’t talk, there’s a dear old chap.”
“My head is clear now,” whispered Bill, “and it mayn’t last long. My affairs are all right at home. If anything happens, see my lawyers. Give my love to Laura (his sister) and Aunt Marion; tell them I thought of them at the end. I feel faint... give me some brandy.” Ralph poured strong brandy and water into the sufferer’s mouth, and he revived again. “One more word, old chap,” went on Bill. “I know I am near the end. I feel it. I shall soon know that great secret we spoke of. Remember this,”—he raised his left hand as he spoke, and feebly took hold of Ralph’s flannel shirt sleeve,—“If I can tell you hereafter, or let you know, I will. Don’t forget! Don’t forget! If I can... It’s dark, isn’t it? and I’m very sleepy. Hold my hand, dear old Ralph... Good-bye. If I don’t see you...”
Bill’s head fell back a little; his eyes closed again; a little blood trickled from his lips; his breathing came and went with yet more effort. Again Ralph administered more brandy to his dying friend. It was of little use. Bill never rallied more. In half an hour the end had come, and Ralph, still holding his friend’s hand within his own, knew that Bill had entered the unknown land, and that he himself had lost the best and bravest comrade that ever entered the hunting veldt.