Then Toby tried to wash the blood from his breast; but it
flowed quite as fast as he could wash it away, and he ceased his
efforts in that direction, and paid every attention to making his
friend and pet more comfortable. He took off his jacket and laid
it on the ground for the monkey to lie upon; picked a quantity of
large green leaves as a cooling rest for his head, and then sat by
his side, holding his paws and talking to him with the most tender
words his lips -- quivering with sorrow as they were -- could
fashion.
XX: HOME AND UNCLE DANIEL
Meanwhile the author of all this misery had come upon the scene. He
was a young man, whose rifle and well filled game bag showed that
he had been hunting, and his face expressed the liveliest sorrow
for what he had so unwittingly done.
"I didn't know I was firing at your pet," he said to Toby as he
laid his hand on his shoulder and endeavored to make him look up.
"I only saw a little patch of fur through the trees, and, thinking
it was some wild animal, I fired. Forgive me, won't you, and let
me put the poor brute out of his misery?"
Toby looked up fiercely at the murderer of his pet and asked,
savagely: "Why don't you go away? Don't you see that you have killed
Mr. Stubbs, an' you'll be hung for murder?"
"I wouldn't have done it under any circumstances," said the young
man, pitying Toby's grief most sincerely.
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