“Comrades,” said Bush, feebly, “come here a moment, I’ve something to say.”
“Say on, Bush.”
“That wretch has killed me. To-morrow won’t find me alive. That I know full well. Now I want you to witness that this lad here is to have all I possess. There’s a matter of fourteen hundred pounds with Bird & Bolton, bankers in Melbourne, and what I have here the lad knows. He is to have all. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Bush.”
“I’ve paper and ink in my tent,” said one; “I’ll bring them, and draw up a line to that effect, which you shall sign if you can.”
“Do so, and quick,” said Bush.
In five minutes, the paper was brought, and the man who proposed this plan, after asking Harry’s name, wrote as follows:—
“I, John Bush, being about to die, bequeath to Harry Raymond, here present, all that I have, namely, fourteen hundred pounds in the hands of Bird & Bolton, bankers of Melbourne, and whatever I may leave here.”
“I don’t know whether that’s ship-shape,” said the writer; “but if you can sign it, we will witness it, and I think it will do.”
The pen was placed in Bush’s fingers, and he succeeded with some difficulty in affixing his signature, after which he sank back exhausted. The three men who had come up put down their names as witnesses, or rather two of them did, and the third, who was unable to write, made his mark.