The loss vexed him worse than the
pain, for he knew very well you can't lose blood without losing strength,
and he couldn't tell yet whether it might not be within his strength to
save him at the other end. So he slit a piece off the tail of his shirt
and tied it above his elbow so tight as he was able. Then he held on, but
knew too well he was getting spent. For a man well over fifty year can't
spend a night of that sort and find himself none the worse for it.
A bit farther forward there was a little more to breathe, and as the
tunnel dropped, he felt the air sweeter. And that put a pinch more hope
into him again. It was up and down with him and his mind in a torment, but
at last he tried not to think at all, and just let his instinct to fight
for life hold him and concentrated all his mind and muscle upon it. Yet
one thought persisted in his worst moments: and that was, that if he
didn't come through, his nephew wouldn't be hanged, but enjoy the two
farms for his natural life; and the picture of that vexed Amos so terrible
that without doubt 'twas as useful to help him as a bottle of strong
waters would have been.
On he went, and then he had a shock, for the torch was very near spent and
began to grow dimmer; so he put it out to save the dying rays against when
he might need them. And he slowed down and rested for half an hour, then
refreshed, he pushed slowly on again.
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