He leaned over and felt his heart; it beat feebly but equably, and he muttered something unintelligible when Robinson touched him. Then Robinson struck a light, and right glad he was to find a cauldron full of gelatinized beef soup. He warmed some and ate a great supper, and Carlo sat and whimpered, and then wagged his tail and plucked up more and more spirit, and finally recognized Tom all in a moment somehow and announced the fact by one great disconnected bark and a saltatory motion. This done he turned to and also ate a voracious supper. Robinson rolled himself up in George's great-coat and slept like a top on the floor. Next morning he was waked by a tapping, and there was Carlo seated bolt upright with his tail beating the floor because George was sitting up in the bed looking about him in a puzzled way.
“Jacky,” said he, “is that you?”
Robinson got up, rubbed his eyes, and came toward the bed. George stared in his face and rubbed his eyes, too, for he thought he must be under an ocular delusion. “Who are you?”
“A friend.”
“Well! I didn't think to see you under a roof of mine again.”
“Just the welcome I expected,” thought Robinson bitterly. He answered coldly: “Well, as soon as you are well you can turn me out of your house, but I should say you are not strong enough to do it just now.”
“No, I am weak enough, but I am better—I could eat something.”
“Oh, you could do that! what! even if I cooked it? Here goes, then.”
Tom lit the fire and warmed some beef soup. George ate some, but very little; however he drank a great jugful of water—then dozed and fell into a fine perspiration. It was a favorable crisis, and from that moment youth and a sound constitution began to pull him through; moreover no assassin had been there with his lancet.
Behold the thief turned nurse! The next day as he pottered about clearing the room, opening or shutting the windows, cooking and serving, he noticed George's eye following him everywhere with a placid wonder which at last broke into words: