Jenkins was studying me somberly.
"Yes, sir," he said presently, when I had made comment about the bully punch. And that was about all I could get out of him, until he was ready to push out the light.
Then he addressed me gloomily:
"Good night, sir," he said with a sickly, feeble smile, "I hope you'll sleep well; and—" he coughed faintly—"and—er—wake up—h'm—all right!"
"Frisky as a—" I bunched my head sleepily into the pillow—"as a jolly—" But the idea wouldn't come!
"Night!" I murmured; and let it go at that!
CHAPTER XXXI
THE DEMON RUM
I didn't feel frisky when I awoke!