With his knife he severed two of the leaves, swearing emphatically the
while on account of his damaged finger, and hastened to Iris with the
precious beverage. She heard him and managed to raise herself on an
elbow.

The poor girl's eyes glistened at the prospect of relief. Without a
word of question or surprise she swallowed the contents of both leaves.

Then she found utterance. "How odd it tastes! What is it?" she
inquired.

But the eagerness with which she quenched her thirst renewed his own
momentarily forgotten torture. His tongue seemed to swell. He was
absolutely unable to reply.

The water revived Iris like a magic draught. Her quick intuition told
her what had happened.

"You have had none yourself," she cried. "Go at once and get some. And
please bring me some more."

He required no second bidding. After hastily gulping down the contents
of several leaves he returned with a further supply. Iris was now
sitting up. The sun had burst royally through the clouds, and her
chilled limbs were gaining some degree of warmth and elasticity.

"What is it?" she repeated after another delicious draught.

"The leaf of the pitcher-plant. Nature is not always cruel. In an