“Say you won’t rope’s-end me, and I will.”
“But I will rope’s-end you.”
“Then I won’t come.”
The boatswain made an effort to rise, but sank back with a groan. Pan took a couple of steps forward, and looked at him eagerly.
“Why, you’re shamming, father,” he said.
The boatswain lay back with the great drops of sweat standing on his face.
“I say, you won’t rope’s-end me, father?”
There was no reply.
“Why, you are shamming, father.”
Still all was silent, and the boy darted to the injured man’s side and began to bathe his face rapidly.