Page 547 - for-the-term-of-his-natural-life

the dreaded giant is out of earshot, says, ‘For God’s sake,
let’s go on alone, Alick. You see what sort of a cove that Gab-
bett is—he’d kill his father before he’d fast one day.’
They made for the bush, but the giant turned and strode
towards them. Vetch skipped nimbly on one side, but Gab-
bett struck the Moocher on the forehead with the axe. ‘Help!
Jem, help!’ cried the victim, cut, but not fatally, and in the
strength of his desperation tore the axe from the monster
who bore it, and flung it to Vetch. ‘Keep it, Jemmy,’ he cried;
‘let’s have no more murder done!’
They fare again through the horrible bush until nightfall,
when Vetch, in a strange voice, called the giant to him.
‘He must die.’
‘Either you or he,’ laughs Gabbett. ‘Give me the axe.’
‘No, no,’ said the Crow, his thin, malignant face distorted
by a horrible resolution. ‘I’ll keep the axe. Stand back! You
shall hold him, and I’ll do the job.’
Sanders, seeing them approach, knew his end was come,
and submitted, crying, ‘Give me half an hour to pray for
myself.’ They consent, and the bewildered wretch knelt
down and folded his hands like a child. His big, stupid
face worked with emotion. His great cracked lips moved in
desperate agony. He wagged his head from side to side, in
pitiful confusion of his brutalized senses. ‘I can’t think o’
the words, Jem!’
‘Pah,’ snarled the cripple, swinging the axe, ‘we can’t
starve here all night.’
Four days had passed, and the two survivors of this awful
journey sat watching each other. The gaunt giant, his eyes

For the Term of His Natural Life