“All right, sir. Plenty of water. That’s why I wouldn’t give any to the helephant. You’ve got a handkerchy, and I shall have to trouble you for that there tie as well; that silky thing will do to bathe the place nicely, and the handkerchy to dry you with.—No, it won’t. I never thought of that.”
“Oh yes, take them,” said Archie eagerly. “The tie will soon dry again.”
“Yes, I know that, sir; but your puggaree would have been better, only you lost that along with your cap.”
“Never mind. Make haste; the place is so hot and stiff.”
“Yes, sir, I know; but the wash must come last.”
“Why?” cried Archie irritably.
“Because this ’ere ain’t a bath-room, sir, and there ain’t no washhand-stand. You see, I have only got that there big jar of water, and a cocoa-nut shell to drink out of. You must have breakfast first, and here goes.”
Archie remained silent while, taking the cup, the lad fetched the great jar, which was half-full of water.
“There you are, sir,” cried Peter, as he filled the cup. “What do you say? Think you could sit up now, or shall I help you?”
In response, wincing a little from pain and feebleness, Archie sat up, took the cup, and drained it with thirsty haste.