Rip was mumbling again, talking jumbled in his sleep and let his legs fall over the limb.
“Wes, you there?”
“Of course. What now?”
“S’more of that water ’s all I want!”
“You that thirsty, Rip?”
“Yeh, can’t help it. S’more of that water ’s all——.”
“Gosh, I can’t get it now. Can’t you wait a little longer until it brightens a little? I don’t want to lose my way in the darkness and leave you here alone. We’d both be alone in this infernal place then!”
“’S all right. Can’t be ’lone, huh? Must have water, though, ’s all. Water!”
His voice was not the voice of Rip, Westy thought. It sounded like some strange being whom he did not know. He mumbled again.
“Been dreamin’, Wes—that Unk was hitting me on the head with a hammer for going in the lake. Hit me so hard—still hurts. My head! Let me lay my head in your lap, Wes, won’t you? No sissy—only tree’s so hard and it hurts.”