"Give me some water, Jim; my mouth is dry as a powder-mill."
"How yeh feelin', anyway, pardner?" said Hartley, as he brought the water.
"First-rate, Jim; I guess I'll be all right."
"Well, I guess you'd better keep quiet."
He threw on his coat next, and went out into the kitchen, returning soon with some hot water, with which he began to bathe his partner's face and hands as tenderly as a woman.
"There; now I guess you're in shape f'r grub—feel any like grub?—Come in," he called, in answer to a knock on the door.
Mrs. Welsh entered.
"How is he?" she whispered, anxiously.
"Oh, I'm all right," replied Albert.
"I'm glad to find you so much better," she said, going to his bedside. "I've hardly slep', I was so much worried about you. Your breakfast is ready, Mr. Hartley. I've got something special for Albert."