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- Стр. 433/526
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"
If
before
tomorrow
morning
we
have
not
given
him
a
more
energetic
febrifuge
,
"
said
the
reporter
,
"
Herbert
will
be
dead
.
"
Night
arrived
--
the
last
night
,
it
was
too
much
to
be
feared
,
of
the
good
,
brave
,
intelligent
boy
,
so
far
in
advance
of
his
years
,
and
who
was
loved
by
all
as
their
own
child
.
The
only
remedy
which
existed
against
this
terrible
malignant
fever
,
the
only
specific
which
could
overcome
it
,
was
not
to
be
found
in
Lincoln
Island
.
During
the
night
of
the
8th
of
December
,
Herbert
was
seized
by
a
more
violent
delirium
.
His
liver
was
fearfully
congested
,
his
brain
affected
,
and
already
it
was
impossible
for
him
to
recognize
any
one
.
Would
he
live
until
the
next
day
,
until
that
third
attack
which
must
infallibly
carry
him
off
?
It
was
not
probable
.
His
strength
was
exhausted
,
and
in
the
intervals
of
fever
he
lay
as
one
dead
.
Towards
three
o'clock
in
the
morning
Herbert
uttered
a
piercing
cry
.
He
seemed
to
be
torn
by
a
supreme
convulsion
Neb
,
who
was
near
him
,
terrified
,
ran
into
the
next
room
where
his
companions
were
watching
.
Top
,
at
that
moment
,
barked
in
a
strange
manner
.
All
rushed
in
immediately
and
managed
to
restrain
the
dying
boy
,
who
was
endeavoring
to
throw
himself
out
of
his
bed
,
while
Spilett
,
taking
his
arm
,
felt
his
pulse
gradually
quicken
.
It
was
five
in
the
morning
.
The
rays
of
the
rising
sun
began
to
shine
in
at
the
windows
of
Granite
House
.
It
promised
to
be
a
fine
day
,
and
this
day
was
to
be
poor
Herbert
's
last
!
A
ray
glanced
on
the
table
placed
near
the
bed
.
