But the sick man lay, looking out drowsily, peacefully, through half-shut eyes, not greatly concerned, one would say, about anything. The Boy went over and stood under the gray blanket canopy, looking down with a choking sensation that delayed his question: "How you feelin' now, Kentucky?"
"All right."
"Why, that's good news. Then you—you won't mind my goin' off to—to do a little prospectin'?"
The sick man frowned: "You stay right where you are. There's plenty in that jampot."
"Yes, yes! jampot's fillin' up fine."
"Besides," the low voice wavered on, "didn't we agree we'd learned the lesson o' the North?"
"The lesson o' the North?" repeated the other with filling eyes.
"Yes, sah. A man alone's a man lost. We got to stick together, Boy." The eyelids fell heavily.
"Yes, yes, Colonel." He pressed the big hand. His mouth made the motion, not the sound, "Good-bye, pardner."