The boy put his arms about the beast's neck.
"I can't do it, Jasper," he repeated, sobbing. "Don't you see I can't?
I wisht I could, oh, I wisht I could!"
The animal drew his head back. His position was uncomfortable, and it
choked him to stretch his neck out that way.
Ralph knew that he must proceed with the building of his wall. One
after another he laid up the pieces of slate and coal, chinking in
the crevices with dirt, keeping his head as much as possible out of
the foul current, stopping often to rest, talking affectionately to
Jasper, and trying, in a childish way, to console him.
At last his work was nearly completed, but the gruff sounds of
distress from the frightened mule had ceased. Ralph held his lamp up
out of the current, so that the light would fall through the little
opening, and looked in.
Jasper lay there on his side, his head resting on the coal bottom, a
long, convulsive respiration at intervals the only movement of his
body. He was unconscious, and dying. The boy drew back with tears in
his eyes and with sorrow at his heart. The beast had been his friend
and companion, not only in his daily toil, but here also, in the
loneliness and peril of the poisoned mine. For the time being, he
forgot his own misfortunes in his sympathy for Jasper. He put his face
once more to the opening.
"Good-by, Jasper!" he said, "good-by, old fellow! I couldn't help it,
you know, an'--an' it won't hurt you any more--good-by!"
He drew back his head, put the few remaining stones in place, chinked
the crevices with dirt and culm, and then, trembling and faint,
he fell to the floor of the old mine, and lay there, panting and
exhausted, for a long time in silent thought.
Pages:
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322