‘There’s one thing I can’t understand,’ said Treloar, in a low voice, ‘and that is how he contrived to get up this shaft again with the gold.’
Quietly as he spoke, Brummy heard him, and muttered—
‘Would ye like to know?’
‘No, no!’ exclaimed Treloar earnestly. ‘We have wasted far too much precious time already in vain talk. Can we do anything to make your mind easier? You know you can’t last much longer. In God’s name try and prepare yourself to meet Him.’
Very slowly came the reply, in short gasps,—
‘I’m easy enough. If I could choke the pair o’ ye by winkin’ I’d do it. I’m gittin’ cold a’ready. But I’m cursin’ ye to mysen all the time. If I kin git back I’ll häänt ye.’
Another long silence, and then he murmured,—
‘Take that dorg away, Jim, or I’ll put the pick into yer! There, you got it now, ole man! Ah, would yer?’
Then the flickering light in the eyes failed altogether, and, I take it, a very defiant, murderous old soul went forth to meet its Maker.
Kálee, smelling at the body, sat upon her haunches and wailed loudly and dismally after the manner of her kind, answered from the flat by Eclipse, marvelling at the disturbance of his friend, with sonorous bellowings.