CHAPTER NINETEEN.
STERLING COIN.
Dyke Emson sat in the darkness there along. He had seen no more of Jackand Tanta Sal since the evening. The latter had looked in, staredstupidly, said "Baas Joe go die," once more, and roused the boy intosuch a pitch of fury that he came nigh to throwing something at her.Then she left the room with her husband, and Dyke was alone.
He felt ready to give up, and throw himself upon his face in his greatdespair, for hour by hour the feeling strengthened that his brother wasindeed dying fast; and as he sat there in the midst of that terriblesolitude, shut in, as it were, by the black darkness, his busyimagination flooded his brain with thoughts of what he would have to do.
The fancy maddened him, for it seemed cruel and horrible to think ofsuch a thing when his brother lay there muttering in the delirium; butthe thought would come persistently, and there was the picture vividlystanding out before him. For his mind was in such an unnatural state ofexaltation that he could not keep it hidden from his mental gaze.
There it all was, over and over again: that place he had selected whereit was nearly always shaded--in that rift in the kopje where the softherbage grew, and climbed and laced overhead, while the low murmur ofthe water gurgling from the rocks in the next rift fell gently upon hisear. He had selected that spot because it was so calm and peaceful, anddrawn poor Joe there upon the little sled. He saw it all--the shallow,dark bed he had dug in the soft earth, where his brother was to rest inpeace, with all the suffering at an end. There were big, mossy piecesof granite there, which would cover and protect the poor fellow'sresting-place, and a smooth, perpendicular face of rock above, on whichhe saw himself, chipping out with hammer and cold chisel the one word"Joe."
And then--
Back came the terrible scene, and over and over again, till, setting histeeth hard, Dyke sprang up, and went to another bucket of water which hehad made Jack understand he was to fetch before he left him some hoursago, and drank long and deeply before returning to the rough pallet,renewing the cold bandage again, and then sinking upon his knees to buryhis face in his hands.
For a full hour Dyke knelt there in the black darkness as if asleep,exhausted by the great mental and bodily fatigue, but hearing everymovement--thrilled by the piteous words which came from his brother'slips. Then with a strange feeling of calm rest filling his breast, heraised his head, bent over the sick man, and took the hot, burning handto hold it to his cheek.
"I won't be such a coward as to break down now, Joe, old chap," he saidsoftly, and as if it were a confidential whisper which his brotherheard. "I was so tired, and I was frightened to see you like this, butI'm going to try and play the man now, and--and I'll stick to you, Joe,to the--"
He was going to say "last," but he checked it, with something like a sobrising to his lips.
"Till--till you get better, old man, and I can help you to go and sit inmy old corner in the shade among the rocks. For you're going to bebetter soon, old chap; and though you're very bad, and it's dark, andhelp is so far away, we're not alone, Joe--we're not alone."
No: not alone!
For as the boy knelt there, holding that burning hand, there came thelong, low, yelping wail of the jackals prowling around, as if theyscented death in the air; and as the dismal sound swept here and thereabout the lonely house, coming and going, and at times apparently quiteclose, Dyke shuddered. But the next moment there arose the deep-toned,fierce roar of a lion, far away possibly, yet in its tremendous powersounding so near that it might have been close at hand.
Then the yelping of the jackals ceased, as if the foul creatures hadbeen scared away by the nobler beast; and after a few uneasy movementsamong the frightened cattle in the pens, all was still with a greatsolemnity, which thrilled the boy to his deepest depths.
And then it seemed to Dyke that it was not so dark, and he rose andwalked softly to the open door to stand looking out, wondering andawe-stricken at the grandeur of the scene above his head. For it was asif the heavens were marked across the zenith by a clearly cut line--theedge of a black cloud--and on one side all was darkness, on the other adazzling sheen of stars, glittering and bright as he thought he hadnever seen them before; while the darkness was being swept away, andfresh stars sprang out from the dense curtain minute by minute, andseemed to rain down myriads of points of light.
He stood there till he heard a low, weary sigh from the rough bed, andturned back in time to hear a few muttered words, and then all wassilent once again.
Dyke trembled, and something seemed to hold him fast chained, as if in atroubled dream.
Then with a wild cry he fell upon his knees, and stretched out histrembling hands to touch his brother's brow, and the reaction came, forit was not as he thought. The head was cooler, and there was a faintmoisture about the temples, while the muttering was renewed for a fewmoments, and ended with a sigh.
Dyke's hands were softly passed then to his brother's breast, which roseand fell gently, and when he let his fingers glide along the arm thathad been tossed to one side, there the tell-tale pulse beat rapidlystill at the wrist, but not--certainly not so heavily and hurried inevery throb, for Joe Emson was sleeping as he had not slept for manydays.
The hours went on till, as Dyke sat there, the darkness began to pass,and the watcher was conscious of a double dawn. The first in himself,where, as he crouched by the bed, and thought of words that had neverimpressed him much before, it was as if Hope were rising slowly, and itstrengthened in its pale, soft light, and mingled with the faint greywhich began to steal in through the narrow window. And this toolengthened and strengthened, till it began to glow. The fowls--the fewthey had left--told that it was day. Once more he could hear theostriches chuckling, hissing, and roaring, and the lowing of the cowsand bullocks sounded pleasant and welcome, as a fresh, soft air began toplay through the door.
The shadows within the room grew paler, till, all at once, they darkenedagain in the corners, for the full beams of the sun suddenly stole inthrough the window, and played upon the opposite wall, which glowed inorange and gold.
But Dyke did not see the refulgent hues with which the shabby white-washand prints were painted, for he was watching his brother's face, all soterribly changed since their last parting. The eyes were sunken, andhollows showed about the temples and cheeks. There was a terrible dryblackness, too, about the skin; while the hands that lay upon the bedwere thin and full of starting tendons, all tokens of the fever whichhad laid the strong man low.
But he was sleeping, and sleep at such a time meant life; while thehead, bared now by the rough shearing Dyke had given the previousevening, was hot, but not burning with that terrible fire which scorchesout the very life where it has commenced to glow.
"Baas Joe dead?" said a voice at the door, and Dyke started to his feetto seize a short, heavy whip; but Kaffir Jack did not stop to see itseized. He turned and fled, while a low muttering growl roused the boyto the fact that the dog had been there in the corner all the night, andnow came forward to thrust a cool nose into his master's hand.
"Why, Duke, old chap, I'd forgotten you," said Dyke softly. The doggave his tail a series of rapid wags, and then came to the bedside,looked at the sick man, whined softly, and then sat and rested hismuzzle upon one of the feeble hands, watching the face intently, and asif meaning to keep guard there.
Dyke followed, and laid his hand on the dog's head; but the faithfulanimal did not stir.
"No, Duke, old man, Baas Joe is not dead yet," whispered Dyke, as hegazed at his brother's face; "and, please God, we're going to bring himsafely back to what he was."
Duke did not move his head; but he raised his tail once, and brought itdown upon the floor with a heavy--_whop_!
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