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on。'
Again I looked upon him； half relenting； and at that he
raised the stick that was in his hand and cruelly struck me
on the face。 'Lead on！' he cried again。 'Must I be all day；
catching my death in this vile slough； and all for a prating
slave…girl？'
I took the blow in silence； I took it smiling； but the blood
welled back upon my heart。 Something； I know not what； fell
at that moment with a dull plunge in the waters of the
lagoon； and I told myself it was my pity that had fallen。
On the farther side； to which we now hastily scrambled； the
wood was not so dense； the web of creepers not so solidly
convolved。 It was possible； here and there； to mark a patch
of somewhat brighter daylight； or to distinguish； through the
lighter web of parasites； the proportions of some soaring
tree。 The cypress on the left stood very visibly forth； upon
the edge of such a clearing； the path in that place widened
broadly； and there was a patch of open ground； beset with
horrible ant…heaps； thick with their artificers。 I laid down
the tools and basket by the cypress root； where they were
instantly blackened over with the crawling ants； and looked
once more in the face of my unconscious victim。 Mosquitoes
and foul flies wove so close a veil between us that his
features were obscured； and the sound of their flight was
like the turning of a mighty wheel。
'Here；' I said； 'is the spot。 I cannot dig； for I have not
learned to use such instruments； but； for your own sake； I
beseech you to be swift in what you do。'
He had sunk once more upon the ground； panting like a fish；
and I saw rising in his face the same dusky flush that had
mantled on my father's。 'I feel ill；' he gasped； 'horribly
ill； the swamp turns around me； the drone of these carrion
flies confounds me。 Have you not wine？'
I gave him a glass； and he drank greedily。 'It is for you to
think；' said I； 'if you should further persevere。 The swamp
has an ill name。' And at the word I ominously nodded。
'Give me the pick；' said he。 'Where are the jewels buried？'
I told him vaguely； and in the sweltering heat and closeness；
and dim twilight of the jungle； he began to wield the
pickaxe； swinging it overhead with the vigour of a healthy
man。 At first； there broke forth upon him a strong sweat；
that made his face to shine； and in which the greedy insects
settled thickly。
'To sweat in such a place；' said I。 'O master； is this wise？
Fever is drunk in through open pores。'
'What do you mean？' he screamed； pausing with the pick buried
in the soil。 'Do you seek to drive me mad？ Do you think I
do not understand the danger that I run？'
'That is all I want；' said I： 'I only wish you to be swift。'
And then； my mind flitting to my father's deathbed； I began
to murmur； scarce above my breath； the same vain repetition
of words； 'Hurry； hurry； hurry。'
Presently； to my surprise； the treasure…seeker took them up；
and while he still wielded the pick； but now with staggering
and uncertain blows； repeated to himself； as it were the
burthen of a song； 'Hurry； hurry； hurry；' and then again；
'There is no time to lose； the marsh has an ill name； ill
name；' and then back to 'Hurry； hurry； hurry；' with a
dreadful； mechanical； hurried； and yet wearied utterance； as
a sick man rolls upon his pillow。 The sweat had disappeared；
he was now dry； but all that I could see of him； of the same
dull brick red。 Presently his pick unearthed the bag of
jewels； but he did not observe it； and continued hewing at
the soil。
'Master；' said I； 'there is the treasure。' He seemed to
waken from a dream。 'Where？' he cried； and then； seeing it
before his eyes； 'Can this be possible？' he added。 'I must
be light…headed。 Girl；' he cried suddenly； with the same
screaming tone of voice that I had once before observed；
'what is wrong？ is this swamp accursed？'
'It is a grave；' I answered。 'You will not go out alive； and
as for me； my life is in God's hands。'
He fell upon the ground like a man struck by a blow； but
whether from the effect of my words； or from sudden seizure
of the malady； I cannot tell。 Pretty soon； he raised his
head。 'You have brought me here to die；' he said； 'at the
risk of your own days； you have condemned me。 Why？'
'To save my honour；' I replied。 'Bear me out that I have
warned you。 Greed of these pebbles； and not I； has been your
undoer。'
He took out his revolver and handed it to me。 'You see；' he
said； 'I could have killed you even yet。 But I am dying； as
you say； nothing could save me； and my bill is long enough
already。 Dear me； dear me；' he said； looking in my face with
a curious； puzzled； and pathetic look； like a dull child at
school； 'if there be a judgment afterwards； my bill is long
enough。'
At that； I broke into a passion of weeping； crawled at his
feet； kissed his hands； begged his forgiveness； put the
pistol back into his grasp and besought him to avenge his
death； for indeed； if with my life I could have bought back
his； I had not balanced at the cost。 But he was determined；
the poor soul； that I should yet more bitterly regret my act。
'I have nothing to forgive；' said he。 'Dear heaven； what a
thing is an old fool！ I thought； upon my word； you had taken
quite a fancy to me。'
He was seized； at the same time； with a dreadful； swimming
dizziness； clung to me like a child； and called upon the name
of some woman。 Presently this spasm； which I watched with
choking tears； lessened and died away； and he came again to
the full possession of his mind。 'I must write my will；' he
said。 'Get out my pocket…book。' I did so； and he wrote
hurriedly on one page with a pencil。 'Do not let my son
know；' he said； 'he is a cruel dog； is my son Philip； do not
let him know how you have paid me out；' and then all of a
sudden； 'God；' he cried； 'I am blind；' and clapped both hands
before his eyes； and then again； and in a groaning whisper；
'Don't leave me to the crabs！' I swore I would be true to
him so long as a pulse stirred； and I redeemed my promise。 I
sat there and watched him； as I had watched my father； but
with what different； with what appalling thoughts！ Through
the long afternoon； he gradually sank。 All that while； I
fought an uphill battle to shield him from the swarms of ants
and the clouds of mosquitoes： the prisoner of my crime。 The
night fell； the roar of insects instantly redoubled in the
dark arcades of the swamp； and still I was not sure that he
had breathed his last。 At length； the flesh of his hand；
which I yet held in mine； grew chill between my fingers； and
I knew that I was free。
I took his pocket…book and the revolver； being resolved
rather to die than to be captured； and laden besides with the
basket and the bag of gems； set forward towards the north。
The swamp； at that hour of the night； was filled with a
continuous din： animals and insects of all kinds； and all
inimical to life； contributing their parts。 Yet in the midst
of this turmoil of sound； I walked as though my eyes were
bandaged； beholding nothing。