“The dog; then he doubly deserved death. And from me!” he added, in a tone not loud enough for Nelatu to hear, “what a lucky chance.”
As he said this he spurned the body with his foot.
Then turning to the Indian, he asked—
“Do you think you could walk a little, Nelatu?”
The brandy had by this time produced an effect. Its potent spirit supplied the loss of blood, and Nelatu felt his strength returning to him.
“I will try,” said the wounded youth. “Nelatu’s hour has not yet come. He must not die till he has paid his debt to Warren.”
“Then lean on me. My canoe is close by. Once in it you can rest at your ease.”
Nelatu nodded consent.
Warren assisted him to rise, and, half carrying, half supporting, conducted him to the canoe.
Carefully helping him aboard, he shoved the craft from the shore, and turned its prow in the direction of the white settlement.