If so, it's little short of a miracle, for I left him with
scarcely a gasp in his body, and I was nearly done myself.
"It was," Oom Sam said, "veree wonderful. The natives who were
chasing you, they found him and then the Englishman whom you met in
Bekwando on his way inland, he rescued him. You see that little
white house with a flagstaff yonder?"
He pointed to a little one-storey building about a mile away along
the coast. Trent nodded.
"That is," Oom Sam said, "a station of the Basle Mission and old
Monty is there. You can go and see him any time you like, but he
will not know you."
"Is he as far gone as that?" Trent asked slowly.
"His mind," Oom Sam said, "is gone. One little flickering spark of
life goes on. A day! a week! who can tell how long?"
"Has he a doctor?" Trent asked.
"The missionary, he is a medical man," Oom Sam explained. "Yet he
is long past the art of medicine."
It seemed to Trent, turning at that moment to relight his cigar,
that a look of subtle intelligence was flashed from one to the
other of the brothers. He paused with the match in his fingers,
puzzled, suspicious, anxious. So there was some scheme hatched
already between these precious pair! It was time indeed that he
had come.
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