Some time after mid-day I was sitting beside the sick man, fanning both him and myself, for though the nights were cool at this season of the year, the middle of the day was both exceeding hot and sultry. He had ceased in his incessant and continuous muttering and talking, and was now lying quite silent, though breathing short and quick with the fever. Suddenly he spoke. "Who are you?" said he, in a quick, sharp voice.
I thought at first he was still rambling in his mind, but when I looked at him I saw that his bloodshot eyes were fixed upon me. I placed my hand upon his brow, and though still very hot, I fancied that the skin was not so dry nor so hard as it had been.
"Who are you?" said he again in the same tone.
"There," said I, "lie still and rest. You have been mightily sick."
"Is it Jack Mackra?" said he.
"Yes," said I.
"And what do you do here?" said he.
"I am come to care for you just now," said I; "but now rest quietly, for I will not answer one single question more, and that I promise you."
He did not seek to speak again, but lay quite still, as though meditating; and presently, as I sat fanning him, I saw him close his eyes, and after a while, by his deep and regular breathing, knew that he was asleep, and that his fever had turned.
As I remember all the circumstances concerning these things, I think that up to this time I had given little if any thought concerning the treasure of which I had been in quest; but now, seeing the sick man fairly asleep, and in what seemed to me a fair way to mend, my mind went instantly back to it again, for I felt well assured that I should find it or some signs of it about the place where I then was.