"'I'll see you 'ung first,' shouts the guv'nor.
"The doctor shakes 'is 'ead. 'I may be 'ung,' 'e says, 'but you won't see it. You'll be in the morchury.'
"The guv'nor starts explaining as a English orficer weren't afeared o' death but the doctor cuts 'im short by pointin' out that every minute 'e were talkin, the cholera were gettin' a better grip on 'im.
"That settles it, and they all goes orf to the prison surgery—the 'ead warder 'elpin' Jackson, an' askin' 'im kind like whether there weren't no messages 'e could give for 'im after 'e was dead."
"Time, gentlemen, please—time!" The gruff voice of the landlord broke in rudely.
"That's always the way," remarked Bill bitterly, "jest as ye're gettin' interested in the conversation."
"But wot 'appened?" demanded Sam eagerly. "Did 'e cure 'em?"
"'E cured 'em right enough," replied Mr. Parbury. "Leastways 'e cured the guv'nor. Jackson 'ad a go o' cholera, but 'e managed to pull through."
"And did the guv'nor get 'is sentence rejooced?"
Mr. Parbury carefully finished the contents of his tankard and replaced it on the bar.