He was actuated by a single thought. He knew that the man was doomed, but he hoped that consciousness might be restored before the tiny spark of life burnt itself out. There was something to be said if human aid could give the dying man the power to say it. Prudence seemed to understand the minister’s motive, for she vaguely nodded her approval as she saw the spirit administered.
All waited eagerly for the sign of life which the stimulating properties of the spirit might reveal. The girl allowed her thoughts to drift away to the lonely trail over which her lover had driven. She saw in fancy the crouching assailants firing from the cover of some wayside bluff. She seemed to hear many shots, to see the speeding horses, to hear the dull sound of the fatal bullet as her man was hit. She pictured to herself the assassins, with callous indifference, as the cutter passed out of view, mounting their horses and riding away. Her thoughts had turned to the only criminals she understood––horse-thieves.
The sign of life which had been so anxiously awaited came at last. It was apparent in the flicker of the wax-like eyelids; in the faintest of sighs from between the colourless lips. Danvers bent again over the dying man and administered more of the spirit It took almost instantaneous effect. The eyelids half opened and the mouth distinctly moved. The action was like that of one who is parched with thirst. Grey 131 gasped painfully, and a strange rattle came from his throat.
Danvers shook his head as he heard the sound. Prudence, whose eyes had never left the dying man’s face, spoke sharply. She voiced a common thought “Who did it, Leslie?”
The minister nodded approval. For a moment his eyes rested admiringly on the girl’s eager face. Her courage astonished him. Then, as he read her expression aright, his wonder lessened. The gulf is bridged by a single span at the point of transition from the girl to the woman. He understood that she had crossed that bridge.
Grey struggled to speak, but only succeeded in uttering an inarticulate sound. The minutes dragged. The suspense was dreadful. They all realized that he was fast sinking, but in every heart was a hope that he would speak, would say one word which might give some clue to what had happened.
The minister applied the rest of the brandy. The dying man’s breathing steadied. The eyes opened wider. Prudence leaned forward. Her whole soul was in the look she bestowed upon the poor drawn face, and in the tones of her voice.
“Leslie, Leslie, speak to me. My poor, poor boy. Tell me, how did it happen? Who did it?”
The man gasped in response. He seemed to be making one last great struggle against the overwhelming weakness which was his. His head moved and a feeble cough escaped his lips. The girl put her arm under his head and slightly raised it, and the dying eyes looked into hers. She could no longer find words to utter; great passionate sobs shook her 132 slight frame, and scalding tears coursed down her cheeks and fell upon the dingy coverlet.
A whistling breath came from between the dying man’s parted lips, and culminated in a hoarse rattling in his throat. Then his body moved abruptly, and one arm lifted from the elbow-joint, the head half turned towards the girl, and words distinct, but halting, came from the working lips.