“It was blisteringly hot and when the sun went down the poisonous steam from the swamps drifted round the spot.  Sometimes I begged her not to stay, and sometimes I raged, but Hattie could not be moved and my weak anger broke before her smiles.  She was strong and would not get fever, she said; she had come to nurse me, and, if I insisted, would go home when I was well.”

Adam stopped and asked for a drink, and afterwards Kit hoped he had gone to sleep, but he presently roused himself again.

“I have got to finish, partner, because there’s a reason you should hear it all.  By and by Father Herman had to nurse us both, and when I got better Hattie died.  We buried her by torchlight in the dusty mission yard—­she was a Catholic—­you’ll see the marble cross.  I’ve been lonely ever since, and that’s partly why I sent for you; Peter came next to Hattie and you are Peter’s son.  Now I’m ready to pull out and somehow I think Hattie will find me when I’m wandering in the dark.  Love like hers is strong.  But I want you to listen when you have given me another drink.”

Kit held the glass to Adam’s cracked lips.  He drank and lay still, breathing hard, and Kit heard the ripple of the tide.  The Rio Negro was getting upright and as the lamp turned in its socket the light moved across the wall.  After a time, Adam resumed in a clearer voice: 

“All I have is yours; Mackellar will prove the will, but you’ll see Alvarez out, as I meant to do.  Another thing; Mayne will get the old boat off tomorrow, and when he’s loaded up I want you to take me out and land me on the creek I marked behind Salinas Point.  He can fly the flag half-mast; I’ll have started on the lone trail then.  You’ll hire some half-breed boys at the pueblo in the swamp, and take me to the mission and lay me beside my wife.  Hattie was a Catholic and you can tell Father Herman that what she believed was good enough for me.  Afterwards, you’ll send him now and then the box of candles he will tell you about.  They’re to burn in the little chapel before Our Lady of Sorrows, where Hattie used to pray I might get well.  You’ll do this for me?”

“I will,” Kit answered with forced quietness.  “Then I’ve finished,” said Adam.  “I’m going to sleep now and mayn’t talk much again.”

He turned his head from the light and presently Kit, hearing him breathe quietly, went out on deck.

At high-water next day, the Rio Negro floated off the mud and when she swung to her anchor Kit went into Adam’s room.  Adam was very weak, but looked up.

“Get the coffee on board; I’m afraid you won’t have time for the next lot and the rubber,” he said.  “Tell Finlay to bank his fires.  You’ll want steam to take me out.”

Kit understood, and nodded because he could not speak, and Adam, giving him a quiet smile, went to sleep again.

Some hours later, Mayne joined Kit, who had gone on deck for a few minutes.