"It may save the boy's life—he's not as strong as us men," pleaded Jack. "It's only his wonderful pluck that's kept him up as long as this; if his nerves go, he's done. We're strong; we can pull through, but the boy can't. May I give it him—it's his last chance?"
"Why, you durned old chipmunk," broke in Broncho half angrily, "d'you think Tari and I are sech low-down, ornery cattle as to up an' jump Jim's claim that-away."
"No dam fear! Oh hellee, no," jerked out the heroic Kanaka, vehemently in his turn.
"Thank you, boys," returned Jack; "I didn't mean to insult you."
"Put it in the diskyard," spoke forth Broncho, with one of his expressive poker slang expressions.
Tari remained silent, gazing, with his handsome but disfigured features full of pity and concern, as Jack, forcing open the clenched teeth, slowly trickled the precious water down the unconscious boy's blackened throat.
The effect was instantly perceptible. With a deep sigh and a relaxation of his rigid limbs, Jim rallied, and consciousness crept into his haggard eyes.
"Where am I?" he stuttered faintly.
"It's all right, old son," declared Broncho cheerily. "You just lie quiet an' slumber some."
Jim looked wonderingly round at the three faces, and then a wave of remembrance swept over him.