"What's that to you? I'm here and starving. Gimme suthin' to eat and drink."
He sank exhaustedly on all fours again.
There was a murmur of sympathy from the men.
"Give him suthin'. Don't you see he can't stand—much less talk? Where's the doctor?"
And then the younger of the leaders thus adjured—"Leave him to me—he wants my help just now more than yours."
He poured some brandy down his throat. Dumphy gasped, and then staggered to his feet.
"What did you say your name was?" asked the young surgeon kindly.
"Jackson," said Dumphy, with a defiantly blank look.
"Where from?"
"Missouri."