“What’s the matter? Night bell?”
“Wake up, man.”
“Eh? Who is it?—Where am I?—You, Mr Frank?”
“Yes. Your camel is waiting for its load. Up with you!”
“Oh, Mr Frank,” moaned the poor fellow, “never mind me. I’m about done for.”
“Nonsense, man! Don’t let the professor see how weak you are.”
“But I can’t help it, sir. I’m that sore all over that it’s just as if I’d been broken. Go on and leave me; I ain’t a bit o’ good.”
“Leave you here in the desert to die?”
“Yes, sir; it don’t matter a bit. I’m regularly done for.”
“Nonsense! Rouse yourself like a man.”