"How long has he been thish way?" said the Jew, glowering on Sarah Rumble.
"Only to-day in bed, please, sir; but he has bin lookin' awful bad this two or three days, sir."
"Do you back it for fever?"
"I think it's fever, sir."
"I s'pose you'd twig fever fasht enough? Seen lotsh of fever in your time?"
"Yes, sir, please."
"It ish fever, ten to one in fifties. Black death going, ma'am—my luck. Look at him there, d——n him, he'sh got it."
Levi looked at him surlily for a while with eyes that glowed like coals.
"This comsh o' them cursed holes you're always a-going to; there's always fever and everything there, you great old buck goat."
Dingwell made an effort to raise himself, and mumbled, half awake—