'Well, I wasn't. Pull Alf up, and I'll give you the yarn.'
Captain Robinson shook the prostrate figure. 'Git up, Alf. It's the square thing. Old Billy's here, skin and all.'
'I didn't drink much. Captain—only a few glasses. There was a lot of water in that last lot. You saw me mix it. Captain.'
'Didn't take you for a coward, Alf,' said Sinclair. 'I'm here, good as ever, with Menotah as well.'
'Where?' blurted forth Dave. 'My gal! Darned if there isn't my gal!'
He would have shambled off towards her, but the hunter stopped him. 'Let her alone, poor girl. She's had more than enough trouble.'
'She's next thing to being my wife, though. Guess she's wanting me.'
'You bet,' said Sinclair, smiling ironically.
'It's hard on a fellow not being able to speak to his gal.'
'Well, have a drink; that's pretty near as good,' said the Captain. 'Come on, Billy. Lord! it makes me feel queer down to the knee bones, to see you standing upright there.'