"Lay him on the bench," said the surgeon, "I can do nothing with him. He will come to himself again in a little while, I daresay, and be all right again in the morning."
"He seems really, indeed, to be a very troublesome man," said the Governor to the surgeon.
"Very likely. Have you a mind for a game of cribbage to-night, Governor? I suppose this fellow will hang?"
"Yes, I don't mind a game. Yes, they will tuck him up."
With this they left Todd's cell, and the turnkey closed the door, and made the highly philosophical remark to himself of—
"Werry good."
Todd remained until the morning in a state of insensibility, and when he awakened from it he was very much depressed in strength indeed. He lay for about two hours gazing on the ceiling of his cell, and then the door was opened, and the turnkey appeared with a bason of milk-and-water and a lump of coarse bread.
"Breakfast!" he cried.
Todd glared at him.
"Breakfast; don't you understand that, old cock? However, it's all one to me. There it is—take it or leave it."