"Take another drink of wine," returned Fred, "and then rest until morning, and we will see what can be done for you."
"By morning, mates, I shall be at rest—never fear. A man can't have his heart squeezed into his mouth, and hope to live. But I'm darn glad that I killed the black scoundrel. He'll never purcel another sailor with his bloody tail."
"Let us make an examination, and see how much you are wounded," I said, proceeding to strip off his shirt.
"Avast there, shipmate," he cried, in a more feeble voice; "I'm going fast, so don't disturb me."
"But there may be hope—we will run for a physician."
"Of what use would the old sawbones be? Haven't I already been tortured enough? Besides, I've no money to pay for a visit."
"We will attend to that part of the duty," rejoined Fred.
"You will?" demanded the wounded man, in astonishment.
"To be sure."
"Well, all I've got to say is, I'm sorry that I attempted to revenge old Burley's wrongs, and if I could live he might fight for himself—I wouldn't."