Volume Two—Chapter Eight.
Stormy Tranquil at Last.
When I returned to Stormy he was worse; and I saw that he had not much longer to live. He was not in so much pain as when I left him; but it was evident he was sinking rapidly.
“Stormy,” said I, “what would you wish me to do to the man, who has brought you to this?”
“Nothing,” he answered; “he’s a bad man—but let him go. Promise me that you will not try to teach him manners—let the Lord do it for us.”
“All right, comrade,” said I, “your wishes shall be obeyed: for I cannot harm him now. He has gone.”
“I’m glad of that,” said the dying man, “for it shows that he knew himself to be in the wrong. By his running away, others will know it too; and will not say that I desarved what I’ve got.”
“But he has not run away,” said I, “he is dead. I went to the house, where you met him yesterday. I found him there. Before I came out, he died.”