"Give it him, and let him choke himself," said Kidd, enraged at the obstinacy.
Paul snatched the bottle and drank a long draught, his laugh mingling with the gurgling.
"Whoop!" cried he, dropping the nearly emptied flask with a grin of content. "I feel better already. A poor idea you have of a scout's outfit, to send that cahoot out without a drink in the herd!"
"Will you talk up now, you brute?"
"Orders received for a Fourth of July oration!"
"Well, where are you hurt, to begin with?"
"All over—a bullet through the right arm, another grazed my ribs, the small of my back caught a rap from the butt end of a rifle, and I offer a complete collection of scratches and bruises from a drop into a snow pit, where a fire had melted it twenty feet—"
"My fire," ejaculated the captain.
"Oh, have I to thank you for that trick! My spirit must be pretty tightly boxed up in my body, after all, not to have been bounced out. However, it looks as if I should get round after a bit, and then somebody will ask who exploded a giant cartridge next door to his blanket."
"Who?"