"O God, jist let _'im_ off this once, and do what you like with all of _us_. Amen."
"Amen!" echoed all his comrades with one voice; and, having offered up that strange supplication, the poor fellows actually felt somewhat less despondent, without knowing why.
Just then Colonel Hardman's tall form was seen to issue from the door of his quarters, and come straight toward them.
"'Ere he comes!" said one of the men eagerly; "I'll go and ax how the little 'un is."
"Are you crazy, Jim?" cried the man beside him, catching him by the arm. "Don't be a fool, lad; if he's worse'n a tiger in the or'nary way, what d'ye s'pose he'll be _now_?"
"I don't care," said Jim Barlow desperately; "here goes."
And stepping right up to the dreaded commandant, he saluted, and said huskily--
The white, rigid face looked vacantly at him for a moment, like one just aroused from sleep, and hardly understanding yet what was said to him; and then the grim man replied, in a low, weak voice--
"Thank you, my man, for asking. No, he is no better."
And Jim went back to his comrades in the lowest stage of depression.
"I'm afeared it's all up, boys," said he, "or Old Blue-Beard 'ud never have spoke to me so civil."
In truth, during those last few days, the stricken father's misery was such that even those who hated him most deeply might well have pitied him; for no torture on earth can compare with the unendurable torment of being forced to witness the sufferings of a helpless child, when powerless to alleviate them in any way. I have seen strong men die in agony, with none to help them; but _they_, at least, knew what was in store for them, and faced it like men, neither pitying themselves nor asking pity from others. But a child cannot tell why it suffers, or why its suffering cannot be removed; and it looks instinctively to you for relief, unable to conceive that you are not powerful enough to help it. I have seen such a sight only too often; I pray God I may never see the like again.
And now--as if this iron man were doomed to feel, in his turn, the full bitterness of the pain that his merciless harshness had so often inflicted upon others--the poor little sufferer's ceaseless cry was for "dear old Bob Burton," the very man whom his listening father's ill-judged severity had driven forth into the jungle to herd with thieves and murderers, and perhaps to die like the beasts that perish.