The listening man laughed.
"Not a bit of it, my boy!" he said. "You are tired out. That is what ails you. You have soft muscles evidently. You will be all right soon."
"I tell you I am about dead!" insisted the voice.
Zaidos listened, puzzled. There was a familiar sound in the tones, but for the life of him he could not place the speaker.
"I tell you I am in a bad way!" insisted the unseen speaker. "I shall appeal this matter to the King as soon as we land."
"That's a good idea," said a soldier, nodding. "When I came away I left my tobacco pouch in barracks. I will appeal too. It is not to be endured!"
"You don't understand," said the fellow. "I am Velo Kupenol, the head of the house of Zaidos. I am a Count!"
The tall soldier nodded with a twinkle in his eye. Zaidos fell back in his bunk with a gasp of surprise, and listened.
"Is that so?" said the soldier. "I heard of the death of Count Zaidos the other day. So you are his heir, eh? I thought he had a son. Where does he appear in this story of yours?"
"He is dead," said Velo. (It was he.) "He went to America, and has not been heard from. So I am the heir. I shall appeal to the King, I tell you!"