“Is there any brandy in the house?”
“Brandy!” the girl exclaimed with wonder. No. Her missis never took anything stronger nor tea and water gruel.
“Hall,” I said, looking at the man, “some one must go for Mr. Duffham. And Dick’s mother might as well be told.”
Bill Leet, a strapping young fellow standing by, made off at this, saying he’d bring them both. Hall went away to his team, and I stooped over the boy.
“What is the matter, Dick? Tell me how you feel.”
Except that Dick smiled a little, he made no answer. His eyes, gazing up into mine, looked dim. The girl had taken away the candle, but the fire was bright. As I took one of his hands to rub it, his fingers clasped themselves round mine. Then he began to say something, with a pause between each word. I had to bend close to catch it.
“He—brought—that—there—strap.”
“All right, Dick.”
“Thank—ee—sir.”