He closed his eyes, for, from the weakness in his body and the fuzzy
turmoil in his brain, he knew that his end was near. Like a wild
animal he had crept into hiding to die. Half-conscious, aimless and
wandering, he lived back in his life to his early manhood on Niihau.
As life faded and the drip of the rain grew dim in his ears it
seemed to him that he was once more in the thick of the horse-
breaking, with raw colts rearing and bucking under him, his stirrups
tied together beneath, or charging madly about the breaking corral
and driving the helping cowboys over the rails. The next instant,
and with seeming naturalness, he found himself pursuing the wild
bulls of the upland pastures, roping them and leading them down to
the valleys. Again the sweat and dust of the branding pen stung his
eyes and bit his nostrils.

All his lusty, whole-bodied youth was his, until the sharp pangs of
impending dissolution brought him back. He lifted his monstrous
hands and gazed at them in wonder. But how? Why? Why should the
wholeness of that wild youth of his change to this? Then he
remembered, and once again, and for a moment, he was Koolau, the
leper. His eyelids fluttered wearily down and the drip of the rain
ceased in his ears. A prolonged trembling set up in his body.
This, too, ceased. He half-lifted his head, but it fell back. Then
his eyes opened, and did not close. His last thought was of his
Mauser, and he pressed it against his chest with his folded,
fingerless hands.



GOOD-BYE, JACK