Dan soon followed, and taking her aside, said hastily, “You must not tell. You pe like you know not vare de man ist. I tink I co get old Bob and feed ’im viskey. Ven he trunk he shleeps much, and vants more viskey. He pe here he not tink you huspand be here; and ve knows he pe killing no mon. Now you take care.”
Poor Mrs. Marmor took the cue quickly.
Almost immediately after this the first gun fired. The Jew flew to the front door, and soon returned accompanied by the great bushy-whiskered negro-hunter, who was much excited.
Mrs. Marmor feigned great uneasiness and anxiety for the safety of her husband, and could but shudder under the piercing eye of the old man, while Louie hid behind her chair and peeped out at him with the fascination of fear.
Their host seemed to forget the presence of his other guests in his solicitude for Mr. Baker’s comfort.
“You not pe vell I see. Dat ish pad. Vat ish te matter?”
“I’m excited, and I reckon I’ve taken cold. Give me some whiskey,” replied the hypochondriac. “I’ve sweat too much. The day has been terribly hot!”
“Ya. Dat ish goot. Col. Paker tole me shut up mine par; but I not open it to serve you. I shust pring it here, and you trink mit my family. Vill I make shling? oder toddy?”
“O sling, sling.”