“What is the matter with you, Nat?”
“Why?” he asked, in turn, with a start.
“Because you show plainly that something has occurred to alarm you.”
He remained silent a moment, and then seizing his hat, jerked it off his head, and threw it spitefully down, where he gazed at it a second, and exclaimed,
“I’m sick of this.”
“Sick of what?”
“Why, of being in this fix.”
“I don’t understand you. Please explain what you mean.”
“I should think you ought to know.”
“But I do not.”