eck
of light by which to guide ourselves. Pepper rode close to me, pouring
into my ears dismal predictions of Fenwick's end; whilst I, amid all my
anxiety, could only think of the dangers of the track, and whether, in
the pitchy darkness, we should ever get to the home station. The dew
fell so heavily that more than once I thought it must be raining, but
those were only wind-clouds brooding in the great dark vault above us.
More welcome than ever sounded the bark of the dogs, which told us we
had reached the end of our stumbling ride; and the moment their tongues
woke up the silence, a lantern showed a ray of light to guide us to the
hut door.

I jumped off my horse instantly, and went in. At first I thought my
patient was dead, for he lay, rigid and grey, in his bunk. At a glance
I perceived that nothing could really be done to help him whilst he was
lying on a high shelf, almost out of my reach, in a small hut filled
with bewildered men, who kept offering him from time to time a "pull"
at a particularly good pipe, having previously poured all the grog they
could muster down his throat, or rather over his pillow (his saddle
performed that duty by night), for he had been unable to swallow for
some hours. I remembered that there were the bedsteads we had used at
the house, and also some firewood still left in the kitchen. Explaining
to Pepper how he was to wrap poor Fenwick in every available blanket
in the place, and carry him across the open space into the parlour, I
hastily ran on before, got some one to help me to drag one of the light
frames into the sitting-room, laced it before the fireplace, and then
made up a good blazing fire on the open hearth. By the time the dry wood
was crackling and sparkling out its cheery welcome, my patient arrived,
and was laid down, blankets and all, on the rude little bedstead, before
the blaze. By its fitful and uncertain light I proceeded to examine the
enormous frame stretched so helplessly before me, feeling half afraid to
touch him at all. F---- was very trying as an assistant, for he looked
on without making any suggestions, and only said from time to time,
"Take care: the man is dead." To my inexperienced eyes he indeed seemed
past all human help. His skin was icy cold, and as wet as if he had been
lying out in the dew. No flutter of pulse, nor sign of breath, could
my trembling efforts discover; but I fancied there was the least little
sign of pulsation about his heart. Of co