"Where can the money have gone to?" whispered Fred.
"I know not," I replied; "you saw me throw it amidst the bushes, and yet, now, it cannot be found."
"One of the gang must have watched our movements, and, during the confusion, moved the bag to another place."
As Fred ceased speaking, the dying man, who was lying at our feet, raised his head, and sought to get up; the effort was unsuccessful, and, with a groan of agony, he fell back and called in feeble tones for water.
"Water," he cried; "for the love of mercy, give me a drink of water; I feel as though I was burning to death. My mouth is parched, and my tongue swollen to an unnatural size."
"Give him a drink, one of you," grunted the chief. "It's probably the last one he will ever ask for."
"Don't say that," exclaimed the snake-bitten man, struggling to rise. "I am not going to die just yet, I can tell you. I have not half revenged myself upon those who injured me."
"Live, and be hanged, if you can," retorted the chief, coolly, seating himself upon a log, and lighting his pipe; "I don't hinder you from getting well, do I?"
"No, no. Nosey, I know that you would rather assist me," said the man, with a faint attempt at a smile, but it was soon banished from his face, and then he again sought to rise, but without success.
The poison was spreading swiftly through his veins, and we could almost see his body swell, so rapidly was it bloating him. He had unbuttoned the wristbands and collar of his shirt, for the pain was too great to keep them fastened; and as he lay at our feet a spectacle too dreadful to be looked upon without pity, we wished that we had the means to save a life that had been passed regardless of laws or man.