"Bugs," he replied, laconically, and looked me squarely in the eyes.
"Bugs!" I cried, feeling the cold hand of Fear at my heart.
He shut his lips tightly, and nodded three or four times.
For a few moments I was literally and positively paralyzed. I felt as if he had pronounced sentence of death. 'Crombie had dropped his eyes, and his broad, strong face was serious.
My nature is buoyant, and presently the reaction came.
"Are they crawlin' yet, Doc?" I asked, a smile struggling to my lips.
I cannot understand now why I asked that question. Perhaps it was a foolish attempt at bravado in the presence of a serious fact just discovered.
He did not answer. He recognized the query as flippant, and his nature was deep. He sat looking at the floor a long time, and I did not intrude again upon his thoughts. But I imagined I felt a tickling beneath my ribs, as of many tiny feet at work. Bugs! Ugh!
At last 'Crombie's shaggy head came up.
"There's a chance—a good chance," he said, and I felt courage spreading through me like wine, for 'Crombie never spoke hastily, nor at random.