"Hush!" said Pippin. "Hold your darned noise! Steel is sharp!"
"Oh! oh, dear! oh—blood is red! Is it you, Moonlighter? Why are you—why are you all in white?"
"Make folks think I was the ha'nt, bonehead! What'd you s'pose? Cute trick, I thought!"
Pippin stepped down into the hollow and threw off the sheet that covered him.
"Well, how are you, young feller?" he asked cheerfully.
"I'm dyin'!" said the boy feebly. "Tell the folks I—"
"Oh, shucks! Here, set up—so! It's stopped rainin'. My! you are wet, ain't you? Feelin' sick? I expect that cigar was a mite—here! lean up against the ledge here, and take a drink!"
Reader, have you ever tasted spice-draught? Its basic principle is peppermint. To this is added cinnamon, cloves, cassia, and a liberal dash of cayenne pepper. "Temp'rance toddy," I have heard it called, but there is nothing temperate about it. "S'archin'" is the adjective Pippin used.
"Take a good swig!" he urged, putting the bottle to the boy's lips. "It's hot stuff, I tell ye!"