“Well, don’t you think he looks very bad?”
“Yes, sir; purty well. Bad as one’s officer could look to be alive.”
“And you talk of it in that cool way.”
“Well, sir, how am I to talk? He’s no worse than lots more I’ve seen.”
“But do you think he’s dying?”
“Nay: not he, sir. Lots of life in him yet. And look here, sir, what do you say to that?”
“A bit of biscuit?”
“Yes, sir; that’s it. Monkey, sir, or a bear?”
“I don’t understand you, Strake.”
“Picked it up, sir, just where we tried to catch him last night. I’m going to lie wait for that gentleman, and give him a pill.”