The Bushman's spud, the one he uses for assassination or to despatch his
prey, is poisoned. It is a lingering poison, and takes several hours to
produce its effect; but no remedy is known, and many who have escaped
from the cowardly blow have crawled to the path only to expire in
torture. There was no denying that what the retainer proposed was the
only thing that could be done. The warder had meantime brought a bucket
of water, of which the poor creature drank eagerly. Felix could not do
it; he could not slay the creature which had carried him so long, and
which twice that night had saved him, and was now to die, as it were, in
his place. He could not consent to it; he led the horse towards home,
but he was weak or weary, and could not be got beyond the Pen.

There the group assembled around him. Felix ordered the scratch to be
cleansed, while he ran over in his mind every possible remedy. He gave
strict orders that he should not be despatched, and then hastened to the
house. He undid with trembling hands the thongs that bound his chest,
and took out his manuscripts, hoping against hope that among the many
notes he had made there might be something. But there was nothing, or in
his excitement he overlooked it. Remembering that Oliver was a great
authority upon horses, he went into his room and tried to wake him.
Oliver, weary with his ride, and not as yet having slept off the effects
of the feast, could not be roused.

Felix left him and hurried back to the Pen. Weary as he was, he watched
by the horse till the larks began to sing and the dawn was at hand. As
yet he had not shown any severe symptoms except twitching of the limbs,
and a constant thirst, which water could not quench. But suddenly he
fell, and the old retainer warned them all to stand away, for he would
bite anything that was near. His words were instantly fulfilled; he