The moment I became aware of my mistake, I hastened to his side.
“Hiram,” said I, “you are ill? Forgive me, if you can. I fear that my thoughtlessness, and passionate temper, have caused you much suffering.”
He made no reply to my conciliatory speech. He was in a very high fever; and asked faintly for water.
I took the tin vessel, in which I had made the coffee; and having filled it at the stream, gave him a pint cup full.
He drank the water eagerly; and then found voice to talk to me. He said that he was glad that I had returned, for he wished to tell me where he had buried some gold, and where his wife and child were living, and could be written to.
He spoke with great difficulty; and soon called for more water.
I again filled the cup nearly full, and handed it to him. After drinking every drop that was in it, he requested me to give him the coffee-can; but, thinking that he had drunk enough water, I declined acceding to his request; and tried to persuade him, that too much water would do him a serious injury. He only answered me by clamouring for more water.
“Wait but a little while,” said I. “In a few minutes you shall have some more.”
“Give it me now! Give it me now! Will you not give me some now?”
Knowing that the quantity he had already drunk, could not fail to be injurious to him, I refused to let him have any more.