Poor
Growler crept after, bleeding a good deal, and Steadfast would not
rest till his faithful comrade was looked to. There was a dagger cut
in his chest, which Nanny, used to dog doctoring, bound up, after
which the creature came close to his master, and fell asleep under
his hand.
It was a very faint hand. Movement or speech alike brought blood to
the mouth, and Stead's ruddy checks were becoming deadly white. He
struggled to say, "You and Ben guard it! Say a prayer, Pat," and
then the two women really thought that in the gush that followed all
was over, and Nanny marvelled at the stunned calm in which Patience
went over the Lord's Prayer, and such Psalms as she could remember.
Steps came, and Nanny shrieked. Then she saw it was her husband and
the other two men.
"Made off to the town," said Peter, gruffly.
"How now--hurt?"
'O, Peter, they have made an end of the poor lad. Died like a lamb,
even now."
"No, no," said Peter, as he came close to the bed with his more
experienced eye; "he ain't dead.
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