“I should think it was; there have been fellows shouting there the whole evening. I suspect they don't leave you many fish in this part of the river.”
“I beg your pardon,” interposed Dill, blandly, “but you 've taken up my card by mistake.”
While Barrington was excusing himself, and trying to recover his lost clew to the game, there came a violent knocking at the door, and a loud voice called out, “Holloa! Will some of ye open the door, or must I put my foot through it?”
“There is somebody there,” said Barrington, quietly, for he had now caught the words correctly; and taking a candle, he hastened out.
“At last,” cried a stranger, as the door opened,—“at last! Do you know that we've been full twenty minutes here, listening to your animated discussion over the odd trick?—I fainting with hunger, and my friend with pain.” And so saying, he assisted another to limp forward, who leaned on his arm and moved with the greatest difficulty.
The mere sight of one in suffering repressed any notion of a rejoinder to his somewhat rude speech, and Barrington led the way into the room.
“Have you met with an accident?” asked he, as he placed the sufferer on a sofa.
“Yes,” interposed the first speaker; “he slipped down one of those rocks into the river, and has sprained, if he has not broken, something.”