done.

The others carried him and laid him on a horsing; and there they still
supported his head and his broken limbs, sick with horror.

The man's face was white, and his eyes stared, and his body quivered.
They sprinkled him with water.

Then he muttered, "All right. I am not much hurt.--Ay, but I am though.
I'm done for."

After the first terror of the scene had passed, the men were for taking
him to the infirmary. But Little interposed, eagerly, "No, no. I'll pay
the doctor myself sooner. He shall be nursed at home, and have all that
skill can do to save him. Oh, why, why would he not listen to me?"

A stretcher was got, and a mattress put on it, and they carried him
through the streets, while one ran before to tell the unhappy wife,
and Little took her address, and ran to Dr. Amboyne. The doctor went
instantly to the sufferer.

Tucker assisted to carry the victim home. He then returned to Grotait,
and told him the news. Dan was not so hardened but what he blubbered in
telling it, and Grotait's eyes were moist with sympathy.

They neither of them spoke out, and said, "This upsets our design on
Little." Each waited to see whether that job was to go on. Each was
ashamed to mention it now. So it came to a standstill.

As for Little, he was so shocked by this tragedy and so anxious about
its victim, that he would not go out to Cairnhope. He came, in the
evening to Dr. Amboyne, to inquire, "Can he live?"

"I can't say yet. He will never work again."

Then, after a silence, he fixed his eyes on young Little, and said,
"I am going to make a trial of your disposition. This is the man I
suspected of blowing you up; and I'm of the same opinion still."

"Then he has got his deserts," were Henry's first words, after a pause
of astonishment.

"Does that mean you forgive him, or you don't forgive him?"

"I dare say I should forgive the poor wretch, if he was to ask me."

"And not without?"

"No. I might try and put it out of my head; but that is all I could do."

"Is it true that you are the cause of his not being taken to the
infirmary?"

"Yes, I said I'd pay out of my own pocket sooner; and I'm not the sort
to go from my word. The man shall want for nothing, sir. But please
don't ask me to love my enemies, and all that Rot. I scorn hypocrisy.
Every man hates his enemies; he may hate 'em out like a man, or palaver
'em, and beg God to forgive 'em (and that means damn 'em), and hate 'em
like a sneak; but he al