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If the Lord as the priest believed had planned the sufferer's aid, His instruments had blundered badly. There must be no more feeble-fingering. "Thieves! Thieves! Cut-throats!" bawled Father Holland in a storm of abuse. "Ye rascals," he thundered, cutting the air with his stick and purposely backing away from the camp to draw the Indians off. Then his voice was lost in a chorus of shrill screams.
It was amazing to Cavanagh to witness his change of manner. Soon a pan of water was steaming, and some hot stones were at the sufferer's feet, and when Wetherford appeared at the door of the tent his face was almost happy. "Kill a sheep. There isn't a thing but a heel of bacon and a little flour in the place."
I looked on, horror-stricken at the effect of my practical joke. After a few frightful seconds vomiting set in; this, no doubt, saved the sufferer's life. I had quite unwittingly, of course administered a most virulent poison. In the midst of his convulsions I caught William Dell's eye, and read something suggestive of murder in it.
On the insistent demand of his partner, Dick also retired shortly, and the cabin on the hillside was dark save for the dim light that glowed in the sufferer's room. They began to straggle in, the men wanted, before the partners had finished their breakfast on the following morning.
And it was, for he heard the words, "Thy will be done," and sank upon his knees by the sufferer's head without spilling another drop. Dick did not speak, but waited for the prayer to be finished: but there was no farther sound, and he whispered gently: "I've brought the water." Still there was no sound, and the boy began to think that he had come too late.
The only way to explain Gethsemane is to approach it from the purely human point of view, as we have already done with the causes which led up to the crucifixion. Let us try to put ourselves in the sufferer's place, a perfectly legitimate and right thing to do. How would any of us have felt in the circumstances of Jesus?
Edward Irving went to see a dying boy once, and when he entered the room he just put his hand on the sufferer's head, and said, "My boy, God loves you," and went away. The boy started from his bed, and called out to the people in the house, "God loves me! God loves me!" One word! It changed that boy.
The effects were instantaneous and terrible; the poison became infused in every vein of the sufferer's body, and his blood seemed changed to liquid fire; he writhed in mighty agony his heart leaped madly in his breast, in the intensity of his torment his brain swam in a sea of fire his eyes started from their sockets, and blood oozed from every pore of his body.
He was lying on his back, looking straight up at the sky as he alternately moaned and talked at random, with now and then a mirthless laugh which frightened the boy. "Don't, daddy, don't!" he begged, as he raised the sufferer's head. "See, it's Dick come back; and now you can ride into camp!" "Mother is dying of thirst, and I'm see that stream!
Waller impassively pointed to the huge lump at the base of the sufferer's skull, "Gag and bonds he might have so placed, after much assiduous practice," said he, "but no man living could hit himself such a blow at the back of the head." "Who could have done it, then?" asked Flint.
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