Chapter Twenty Nine.
An Exulting Fiend.
“I has found you, has I?”
“Crookleg!”
“Yes, it am Crookleg.”
“A drop of water, for the love of God; a drop of water!”
“If de whole place war a lake, dis chile wouldn’t sprinkle you parched lips with a drop out ob it.”
“What do you mean, Crookleg?”