"I
guess I'll ladle ye out some o' that soothin' mixture I bought down
at Simpson's t' other day," he said, reflectively. "And I
onderstand the boys up on the Bar think the rains will set in
airly."
But here Nature was omnipotent. Worn by exhaustion, excitement,
and fever, and possibly a little affected by Captain Dick's later
potion, Roger Catron turned white, and lapsed against the wall. In
an instant Captain Dick had caught him, as a child, lifted him in
his stalwart arms, wrapped a blanket around him, and deposited him
in his bunk. Yet, even in his prostration, Catron made one more
despairing appeal for mental sympathy from his host.
"I know I'm sick--dying, perhaps," he gasped, from under the
blankets; "but promise me, whatever comes, tell my wife--say to--"
"It has been lookin' consid'ble like rain, lately, hereabouts,"
continued the captain, coolly, in a kind of amphibious slang,
characteristic of the man, "but in these yer latitudes no man kin
set up to be a weather sharp."
"Captain! will you hear me?"
"Yer goin' to sleep, now," said the captain, potentially.
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