"A good idea that of yours, doctor, the rum; let us open the other bottle."
He reached down to lift it, but in the doing so, stumbled, and, falling against the doctor's knees, was almost instantly asleep.
The superior intellect had conquered the untrained mind; he also felt refreshed somewhat with the spirit, as he had used it in that outward application, and got ready to finish his work.
The head of Dennis rested against his knees, face downwards, and the stertorous breathing of the sleeper rattled like stones being shaken in a calabash. It was necessary that he should be laid flat and turned about before the cannibal could accomplish his purpose, therefore gently, as only a woman and a doctor could act, he shifted his unconscious companion to the desired position, and then knelt down beside him to consider how it was to be done with safety to himself.
How dreadful that face looked as it lay with its purple flush, black lips and grinning teeth. The doctor knew that Dennis would not sleep long, also that when he woke, if he ever did, that he would be a mindless and ferocious maniac. It must be done at once, he had waited long enough. In another moment he too would be asleep.
He had nothing heavy enough to stun that thick skull, nor the strength left to do it; only one thing remained, to get Dennis's large clasp knife and cut his throat with one swift stroke.
It seemed a pity to do this, for there would be a great waste; no matter, he would get some before it was quite drained away.
He paused to consider no more, but, drawing the knife from the sleeper's pocket, he opened it swiftly,
