Basil and Annette

A word as to his false beard and whiskers. In London he had had a behind-the-scenes acquaintance, and in a private theatrical performance in which he played a part he had worn these identical appendages as an adjunct to the character he represented. He had brought them out with him, thinking they might be serviceable one day. Before he came to Gum Flat he had got into a scrape on another township, and when he left it, had assumed the false hair as a kind of disguise. Making his appearance on Gum Flat thus disguised, he deemed it prudent to retain it, and when he came into association with Basil he thanked his stars that he had done so; otherwise he might have drawn upon himself from the man he called his double a closer attention than he desired.

CHAPTER XII

In the middle of the night Basil awoke. He had had a tiring day, but when he had slept off the first effects of the fatigue he had undergone, the exciting events of the last two days became again the dominant power. He dreamt of all that had occurred from the interview between himself and Anthony Bidaud, in which he had accepted the guardianship of Annette, to the moment of his arrival on Gum Flat. Of Newman Chaytor he dreamt not at all; this new acquaintance had produced no abiding impression upon him.

He lay awake for some five minutes or so in that condition of quiescent wonder which often falls upon men when they are sleeping for the first time in a strange bed and in a place with which they are not familiar. Where was he? What was the position of the bed? Where was the door situated: at the foot, or the head, or the side of the bed? Was there a window in the apartment, and if so, where was it? Then came the mental question what had aroused him?

It was so unusual for him to wake in the middle of the night that he dwelt upon this question. Something must have disturbed him. What?

Was it fancy that just at the moment of his awakening he had heard a movement in the room, that he had felt a hand upon him, that he had heard a man's breathing? It must have been, all was so quiet and still. Suddenly he sat straight up on the stretcher. He remembered that he was in the township of Gum Flat, sleeping in a strange apartment, and that men with whom he had not been favourably impressed must be lying near him. This did not apply to Newman Chaytor, who had been kind and attentive, and whom he now thought of with gratitude. There was nothing to fear from him, but the other three had gazed at him furtively and with no friendly feelings. He had exchanged but a few words with these men, and those had been words of suspicion. When he entered the store, after attending to his horse, they had not addressed a word to him. It was Chaytor, and Chaytor alone, who had shown kindness and evinced a kindly feeling. And now he was certain that someone had been in the room while he slept, and had laid hands on him. For what purpose?

He slid from the stretcher, and standing upright stretched out his hands in the darkness. Where was the door?

Outside the canvas building stood Chaytor's three mates, wide awake, with their heads close together, as they had been inside on the return of Basil and Chaytor from the stable. They were conversing in whispers.

"Did he hear you?"

"No. If he had moved I would have knocked him on the head."

"Have you got it?"

"Yes, it is all right."

"Pass it round."

"No; I will keep it till it's sold; then we'll divide equally."

"What do you think it's worth?"

"Twenty pounds, I should say."

"Little enough."

"Hush!"

The sound of Basil moving about his room, groping for the door, had reached them.

"If he comes out, Jim, you tackle him."

"Leave him to me. Don't waste any more time. Get the horse from the stable."

Basil, unable to find the door, stumbled against the calico portion which divided his room from that in which Chaytor slept.

"Who's there?" cried Chaytor, jumping up.

"Oh, it's you," said Basil, recognising the voice. "Have you got a light?"

"Wait a moment."

But half dressed he represented himself to Basil, with a lighted candle in his hand.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I don't know," replied Basil, "but I am not easy in my mind. Perhaps it is only my fancy, but I have an idea that someone has been in my room."

"Let us see." They proceeded to the three compartments which should have been occupied by the three men. They were empty.

"It was not fancy," said Basil. "What mischief are they up to? Come along; we will go and see."

Chaytor hesitated. He was not gifted with heroic qualities, and he knew that his three mates were desperate characters.

"Did you have any money about you?" he asked.

"None. Why, where's my watch?" It was gone. There was a hurried movement without; he heard the sound of a horse's feet. "They are stealing Corrie's horse," he cried, "after robbing me of my watch! Stand by me, will you?"

He rushed out, followed, but not too quickly, by Chaytor. The moment he reached the open a pair of arms was thrown around him, and he was grappling with an enemy. In unfamiliar ground, enveloped in darkness, and attacked by an unseen enemy, he was at a disadvantage, and it would have fared ill with him had he not been strong and stout-hearted. Jim the Hatter, who had undertaken to tackle him soon discovered that the man they were robbing was not easily disposed of. Down they fell the pair of them, twisting and turning, each striving to obtain the advantage, Basil silent and resolved, Jim the Hatter giving tongue to many an execration. In the midst of the struggle the ruffian heard his mates, the Nonentities, moving off with Basil's horse. His experience had taught him that "honour among thieves" was a fallacious proverb; anyway, he had never practised it himself, and he trusted no men. With a powerful effort he threw Basil from him and ran after his comrades. During the encounter Chaytor had kept at a safe distance, but now that there was a lull he came close to Basil.

"They have half throttled me," he gasped, tearing open his shirt and blowing like a grampus. "Are you hurt?"

"No," said Basil. "We may catch them yet."

And he began to run, but the ruffians had got the start of him, and knew the lay of the ground. Guided by his ear he stumbled on, across the plains, through a gully riddled with holes, and finally up a steep range, followed by Chaytor, panting and blowing. He had many a fall, and so had Chaytor (who thought it well to follow suit, and cried out from time to time, "O, O, O!"), and thus the flight and the pursuit continued, the sounds from the flying men and Old Corrie's horse growing fainter and fainter, until matters came to a sudden termination.

Half-way up the range, which was veined with quartz, a shaft had been sunk and abandoned. The miners who had done the work had followed a gold-bearing spur some fifty feet down, in the hope of coming upon a golden reef. But the spur grew thinner and thinner, the traces of gold disappeared, and they lost heart. Disappointed in their expectations, and out of patience with their profitless labour, they shouldered their windlass and started off to fresh pastures. Thus the mouth of the shaft was left open and unprotected, and into it Basil dropped, and felt himself slipping down with perilous celerity.

It was fortunate that the shaft was not exactly perpendicular, After following the spur down for twenty feet the miners had found that it took an eccentric turn which necessitated the running in of an adit. This passage was about two yards long, when the spur dipped again, and the shaft was continued sheer into the bowels of the earth. It was this adit which saved Basil's life. When he had slipped down the twenty feet he felt bottom, and there he lay, bruised, but not dangerously hurt.

He cried out for help at the top of his voice, and his cries were presently answered.

"Below there!" cried Chaytor, lying flat on the ground above, with his ear at the mouth of the shaft.

"Is that you, Mr. Chaytor?" cried Basil.

Chaytor (aside): "He remembers my name." (Aloud): "Yes, what's left of me. Where are you?" (Which, to say the least of it, was an unnecessary question.)

Basil: "Down here."

Chaytor (blind to logical fact): "Alive?"

Basil (perceiving nothing strange in the question, and therefore almost as blind): "Yes, thank God!"

Chaytor: "Any bones broke?"

Basil: "I think not, but I am bruised a bit."

Chaytor: "So am I."

Basil: "I am sorry to hear it. Have the scoundrels got away?"

Chaytor: "Yes, they're a mile off by this time."

Basil (groaning): "Old Corrie's mare! What will he think of me?"

Chaytor: "It can't be helped."

Basil: "In which direction have they gone?"

Chaytor: "Haven't the slightest idea. I warned you against them."

Basil: "You did. You're a good fellow, but what could I do?"

Chaytor: "Neither of us could have prevented it."

Basil: "I am not so sure. I ought to have stopped up all night, and looked after what wasn't my own."

Chaytor (attempting consolation): "Why, you couldn't keep your eyes open."

Basil (groaning again): "I ought to have kept my eyes open. I had no right to sleep after your warning."

Chaytor: "I did what I could."

Basil: "You did; you're a true friend." (Chaytor smiled.) "How am I to get up from here?"

Chaytor: "That's the question. How far are you down?"

Basil: "Heaven knows. It seems a mile or so."

Chaytor: "There's no windlass."

Basil: "Isn't there?"

Chaytor: "And it's pitch dark."

Basil: "It's as black as night down here. Can't you go for help?"

Chaytor: "I'll tell you something. There isn't a soul on the township but ourselves."

Basil: "Not one?"

Chaytor: "Not one. We must wait till daylight; then I'll see what I can do."

Basil: "There's no help for it; it must be as you say. You'll not desert me?"

Chaytor (in an injured tone): "Can you think me capable of so dastardly an act?"

Basil: "Forgive me; I hardly know what I'm saying. I deserve that you should, for giving utterance to a thought so base."

Chaytor: "It was natural, perhaps. Why should you trust me, a stranger, whom you have known for only a few hours?"

Basil: "I do trust you: it was an unnatural thought. You are a noble fellow-and a gentleman."

Chaytor: "I hope so. Can I do anything for you while you are waiting?"

Basil: "I am devoured by thirst. Can you manage to get a drink of water to me?"

Chaytor: "I can do that; but you must have patience. I shall have to go back to the township to get a bottle and some string. Shall I go?"

Basil: "Yes, yes. Be as quick as you can."

Chaytor: "I won't be a moment longer than I can help."

Then there was silence. Chaytor departed on his errand, and Basil was left to himself. His right arm was bruised and sore, but he contrived to feel in his pockets for matches. A box was there, but it was empty, and he remembered that he had struck the last one at the end of his long ride from Bidaud's plantation, just before he arrived in Gum Flat. He knew, from feeling the opening of the adit, that it was likely he was not at the bottom of the shaft, and he was fearful of moving, lest he should fall into a pit. He thought of Newman Chaytor. "What a good fellow he is! I should be dead but for him. It is truly noble of him to stick to me as he is doing. He has nothing to gain by it, and he is saving my life. Yes, I will accept his proposal to go mates with him, for I have no place now on Bidaud's plantation. Poor Annette-poor child! I hope she will be happy. I hope her uncle and Aunt will be kind to her. I must see her again before I go for good, and then we shall never meet again, never, never! I would give the best twenty years of my life-if I am fated to live-to be her brother, with authority to protect her and shield her from Gilbert Bidaud. He is a villain, a smooth-tongued villain, a thousand times worse than these scoundrels who have robbed me and brought me to this. What will Old Corrie say when he hears I have lost his mare? Will he think I am lying-will he think I have sold his horse and pocketed the money? If so, and it gets to Annette's ears, how she will despise me! I must see her, I must, to clear myself. Gilbert Bidaud will do all he can to prevent it, and he may succeed; but I will try, I will try. If I had a hundred pounds I would buy another horse for Old Corrie, a better one than that I have lost, but I haven't a shilling. A sorry plight. There is only one human being in the world I can call a friend, and that is Mr. Chaytor, who has taken such a strange fancy for me. Yesterday there was Old Corrie, there was Anthony Bidaud, there was Annette. One is dead, the others may cast me off, It is a cruel world. How long Mr. Chaytor is! It seems an age. Shame on you, Basil, for reviling! There is goodness, there is sweetness, there is faithfulness in the world. Don't whine, old man. All may yet be well, though for the life of me I can't see how it is to be brought about."

Then he fainted, but only for a few seconds; when he opened his eyes again he thought hours must have elapsed.

In truth Chaytor was absent no longer than was necessary, but he was also mentally busy with the adventures of the last few hours. The man whose phantom shadow had haunted him in London was now at his mercy. Basil's life was absolutely at his disposal. To leave him where he was in that desolate spot at the bottom of a deserted shaft would be to ensure for him a sure and certain death, and if he wished to make assurance doubly sure, all he had to do would be to roll a great stone upon him. But that would be a crime, and, hardened as he was, he shrank from committing it. Not from any impulse of mercy, but because he had nothing at present to gain from it. There was much to learn, much to do before he nerved himself to a desperate deed which, after all, might by some stroke of good fortune be unnecessary. And indeed it was only the accident which had befallen Basil that darkened his soul with cruel suggestion. The sleeping forces which lurk in the souls of such men as Newman Chaytor often leap into active life by some unfortuitous circumstance in which they have no direct hand.

He was back at the shaft, leaning over it, with a bottle of water not too tightly corked, to the neck of which was attached a long piece of cord.

"Are you there?" he called out.

"Heaven be thanked!" said Basil. "What a time you have been."

"I have not been away an hour."

"Is that really so?"

"It is, but it must have seemed long to you."

"Weeks seem to have passed."

"I have a bottle of water which I will send down to you."

"God bless you!"

"When you get it, loosen the string from the neck of the bottle, and I will send down what remains of the flask of brandy. It will do you no harm."

"I can never repay you for your goodness to me."

"Yes, you can. Look out."

The bottle of water was lowered, and afterwards the flask of brandy: Basil took a long draught of water, half emptying the bottle, and sipped sparingly of the brandy.

"You have given me life, Mr. Chaytor."

"Psha! I have done nothing worth making a fuss about. Oblige me by dropping the Mr."

"I will. With all my heart and soul I thank you, Chaytor."

"You are heartily welcome, Basil. There is a light coming into the sky."

"Sunrise! How beautiful the world is!"

"Listen," said Chaytor; "I will tell you what I am going to do."

CHAPTER XIII

"I am listening," said Basil.

"There is no windlass, as I have told you," said Chaytor, "so I must devise something in its place to pull you up. The mischief is that I am alone, and have no one to help me. However, I must do the best I can. I am going to roll the trunk of a tree to the top of the shaft, then tie a rope firmly round it so that you can climb into the world again. It must be dreadful down there."

"It is," groaned Basil.

"I can imagine it," said Chaytor, complacently; "but you mustn't mind biding a bit. No man could do more than I am doing."

"Indeed he could not."

"The tree is six or seven hundred yards off, and I daresay I shall be an hour over the job. I can't help that, you know."

"Of course you can't. I can't find words to express my gratitude for all the trouble you are taking. And for a stranger, too!"

"I don't look upon you as a stranger; I feel as if I had known you all my life. I suppose, though, it is really but the commencement of a friendship which will last I hope till we are both old men."

"I hope so too."

"A little while ago I was saying to myself, I will never trust another man as long as I live; I will never believe in another; I will never again confide in man or woman. I have been deceived, Basil."

"I am truly sorry to hear it."

"Yes, I have been deceived. Friend after friend have I trusted, have I helped, have I ruined myself for, to find them in the end false, selfish and unreliable. I was filled with disgust and with shame for my species. 'I renounce you all,' I cried in the bitterness of my soul. But now everything seems changed. Since you came my faith in human goodness and sincerity and truth is restored. I don't know why, but it is so. I can rely upon your friendship, Basil?"

"You can. I will never forget your goodness; never."

"I am going, now, to roll the tree to the shaft. Be as patient as you can."

He did not go far. The slim trunk that he spoke of lay not six or seven hundred yards off, but quite close to the shaft, and he knew that Basil in his pursuit of the robbers could not have observed it. He was master of the situation; Basil was at his mercy, and every word he had uttered was intended to bind the unsuspicious man more firmly to him. "He is a soft-hearted fool," thought Chaytor, "and I shall be able to bend him any way I please through the gratitude he feels for me. I think I spoke rather well. What is this?" He stooped and picked up a pocket-book which had slipped from Basil's pocket as he ran after the thieves.

Retreating still farther from the shaft, to make assurance doubly sure, Chaytor, with eager fingers and a greedy expectancy in his eyes opened the book and examined the contents. Intrinsically they were of no value, but in their relation to the unformed design which was prompting Chaytor's actions their value was inestimable. There were memoranda of dates, events, names and addresses, and also some old letters. Any possible use of the latter did not occur to Chaytor, but his examination of the former was almost instantly suggestive. They were in Basil's handwriting, some being dated and signed "B. W.", and would serve admirably as copies for anyone who desired to imitate the writing. Clear up and down strokes, without twists or eccentric curves, straightforward as Basil himself. "This is a find," thought Chaytor; "Providence is certainly on my side. In a week I shall be able to write so exactly like Basil that he will be ready to swear my writing is his. There is information, too, in the book which may prove serviceable. I'll stick to him while there's a chance, and contrive so that he shall stick to me. I haven't done badly up to now."

More than an hour did Chaytor employ in cunning cogitation, smoking the while in a state of comfortable haziness as to the future. Imagination gilded the prospect and clothed it with alluring fancies; and that the roads which led to it were dark and devious did not deter him from revelling in the contemplation. Time was up. Panting and blowing, he rolled the tree-trunk to the shaft.

"Below there!" he called out.

"Ah!" replied Basil; "you are back again."

"I have had a terrible job," said the hypocrite, "and almost despaired of accomplishing it, but stout heart and willing hands put strength into a fellow, and the tree is here. Look out for yourself while I roll it across the shaft. The earth may be rotten, and some bits will roll down, perhaps, though I'll do all I can to prevent it."

"Thank you, a thousand, thousand times. There's a little tunnel here; I'll get into it while you're at work above."

With loud evidences of arduous toil Chaytor placed the trunk in position, and then made the rope secure around it.

"Now," said Chaytor, "all is ready, Basil, and I'm going to lower the rope. Have you got it?"

"Yes," replied Basil, in a faint tone.

"You will have to pull yourself up by it. I will keep the rope as tight and steady as I can, and that is as much as I can do. Do you think you will be able to manage it?"

"I must try, but I feel very weak. My strength is giving way."

"Don't let it, old fellow. Pluck up courage; it's only for a few minutes, and then you will be safe at the top. Now then, with a will."

It required a will on Basil's part, he was so weak, and more than once he feared that it was all over with him; but at length the difficult feat was accomplished, and, with daylight shining once more on him, he reached the top, and was pulled from the mouth of the shaft by Chaytor's strong arms. Then, his strength quite gone, he sank lifeless to the ground.

Chaytor, gazing upon the helpless form, reflected. He had Basil's pocket-book packed safely away in an inner pocket of his waistcoat, one of those pockets which men who have anything to conceal, or who move in lawless places, have made in their garments. This book contained much that might be useful; for instance, the correct name and address of Basil's uncle in England, a statement of the debts which Basil had paid to keep his dead father's name clear from reproach, the address of the lawyers who had managed that transaction, the amount of the fortune that Basil's mother had bequeathed to him, and other such matters. Now, had Basil anything more upon his person which might be turned to account in the future? If so, this was a favourable opportunity for Chaytor to possess himself of it. There would be no difficulty in satisfactorily explaining the loss of any property which Basil had about him. In the confusion and excitement of the last few hours anything might have happened.

Having decided the point, Chaytor's unscrupulous fingers became busy, and every article in Basil's pockets passed through his hands. With the exception of a purse, he replaced everything he had taken out. This purse contained a locket with a lock of hair in it: at the back of the locket was an inscription in Basil's writing-"My dear Mother's hair," her Christian name, the date of her death, and her age. There was no money in the purse. Undoubtedly Basil, when he recovered his senses, would miss his purse, but if his pocket-book slipped out of his pocket while running, why not that? Chaytor was perfectly easy in his mind as he deposited the purse by the side of the pocket-book inside his waistcoat.

Meanwhile Basil lay motionless. "I'll carry him a little way," thought Chaytor. "Anything might drop from his clothes while he is hanging over my shoulder. I'll have as many arrows to my bow as I can manufacture. When he gets to his senses we will have a hunt for the purse and the pocket-book, and of course shall not find them." With a grim smile he raised Basil to a sitting posture, and gradually lifted him on to his shoulder. Clasping him firmly round the body, Chaytor staggered on.

Basil was no light weight, and Chaytor, while he was pursuing his dissipated life in London, had not been renowned for strength; but his colonial career had hardened his muscles, and enabled him now to perform a task which in years gone by would have been impossible. A dozen times he stopped to rest and wipe his brows. The form he carried was helpless and inert, but Basil's mind was stirred by the motion of being carried through the fresh air, and he began to babble. He thought he was upon old Corrie's mare, and he urged the animal on, muttering in disjointed and unconnected words that he must reach the township of Gum Flat that night, and be back again next day. Then he went on to babble about Annette and her father, and to a less intelligent man than Chaytor-give him credit for that-his wandering talk might have been incoherent and meaningless. But Chaytor's intellect was refined and sharpened by the possibilities of a gilded future. He listened attentively to every word that fell from Basil's fevered lips, and put meaning to them, sometimes false sometimes true.

"My friend Basil is in a delirium," said he during the intervals of Basil's muttering, "and I shall have to nurse him through a fever most likely. What with that probability, and the weight of him, I am earning my wage. No man can dispute that. He raves like a man in love about this Annette. How old is she? Is she pretty? Does she love him? Will she be rich? Is that a vein I could work to profit? I don't intend to throw away the shadow of a chance. An age seems to have passed since last night. But what," he cried suddenly, "if all my labour is being thrown away-what if I am following a will-o'-the-wisp?"

He let Basil slip purposely from his arms, and heedless of the sick man's groans, for the fall was violent, he looked down upon him as though a mortal enemy was in his path. But one of the strongest elements in greed and avarice is the hope that leads their votaries on, and this and the superstitious feeling that the meeting had been brought about by fate, and was but the beginning of a fruitful end, dispelled the doubt that had arisen. "I will work for it," he muttered; "It is my only chance. Even if nothing comes of it I shall be no worse off. But something shall come of it-I swear it."

Reassured, he took up his burden, and in the course of an hour reached the dwelling they had occupied the previous night. By that time Basil was in a high fever, and Chaytor began to be disturbed by the fear that his double would die. Then, indeed, his labour would be lost and his hopes destroyed, for he had much to learn and much to do before the vague design which spurred him on could be developed and ripened.

Chaytor had a secret store of provisions which he had hoarded up unknown to Jim the Hatter and the Nonentities; some tins of preserved meat and soup, the remains of a sack of flour, two or three pounds of tea, a few bottles of spirits, and a supply of tobacco. These would have served for a longer time than Basil's sickness lasted, and Chaytor comforted himself with the reflection that he could not have carried them away with him had he been compelled to leave the deserted township. It was really Basil's stout and healthy constitution that pulled him through a fever which would have proved fatal to many men. He did not recover his senses for sixteen days, and as he had nothing to conceal he, during that time, revealed to Chaytor in his wild wandering much of his early life. When at length he opened his eyes, and they fell with dawning consciousness upon the man standing beside his bed, Chaytor was in possession of particulars innocent enough in themselves, but dangerous if intended to be used to a wily and dangerous end. During those sixteen days Chaytor had not been idle, having employed himself industriously in studying and imitating the few peculiarities in Basil's writing. To a past-master like himself this was not difficult, and he succeeded in producing an imitation so perfect as to deceive anyone familiar with Basil's style. He was careful in destroying every evidence of this vile study.

Basil's eyes fell upon Chaytor's face, and he was silent awhile. Chaytor also. Basil closed his eyes, opened them again, and fell to once more pondering upon matters. Then Chaytor spoke.

"Do you know me at last?" he asked.

"Know you! At last!" echoed Basil. "I have seen you before-but where?"

"Here, in Gum Flat township."

"I am in Gum Flat township. Yes, I remember, I was riding that way on old Corrie's mare." He jumped up, or rather tried to do so, his weak state frustrating his intention.

"Where are the robbers?"

"That's the question," said Chaytor, "and echo answers. Not very satisfactory."

"It is coming back to me little by little," said Basil presently. "I arrived here late at night and found the township deserted by all but four men, three of them scoundrels, the fourth a noble fellow whose name was-was-what has happened to me that my memory plays me tricks? I have it now-whose name was Newman Chaytor."

"A true bill. He stands before you."

"You are the man. What occurred next? He found a stable for Old Corrie's mare, gave me food and a bed, while the three scoundrels looked on frowning. I slept like an unfaithful steward; the mare being Corrie's and not mine, and I doubtful of the character and intentions of the scoundrels, I should have kept watch over property that did not belong to me. Instead of doing that I consulted my own ease and pleasure."

"You could not help it; you were tired out."

"No excuse. I made no attempt to guard Old Corrie's mare. If I had watched and fallen asleep from weariness at my post it might have been another matter. When I present myself to Old Corrie, that is if I am ever able to stand upon my legs again I shall put no gloss upon my conduct. He shall hear the plain unvarnished truth from the unfaithful steward's own lips. I am unworthy of confidence or friendship; I warn you, Newman Chaytor, put no trust in me."

"I would trust you," said Chaytor, with well-simulated candour, "with my life."

"The more fool you. Where was I? Oh, asleep in the comfortable bed you gave me while these scoundrels were planning robbery. In the middle of the night I woke up-pitch dark it was-forgive me for speaking ungratefully to you. My heart is overflowing with gratitude, but I am at the same time filled with remorse."

"Don't trouble about that, Basil," said Chaytor. "You can't hurt yourself in my esteem. Go on with your reminiscence; it is a healthy exercise; it will strengthen your wandering memory."

"Pitch dark it was. I was not sure then, but I am now, that thieves had been in my room. Have I been lying here long, Chaytor?"

"Two weeks and more."

"And you have been nursing me all that time?"

"As well as I could. You could have found no other nurse-though easy to find a better-in Gum Flat; you and I are the only two living humans in the township."

"Why did you not leave me to die?"

"Because I am not quite a brute."

"Forgive me for provoking such a reply. But why-indeed, why have you been so good to me?"