I forgot to tell
you--three days ago."
Sheldon watched the _Jessie's_ captain go down the path, with waving arms
and loud curses calling upon God to sink the Solomons. Next, Sheldon
noted the _Jessie_ rolling lazily on the glassy swell, and beyond, in the
north-west, high over Florida Island, an alpine chain of dark-massed
clouds. Then he turned to his partner, calling for boys to carry him
into the house. But Hughie Drummond had reached the end. His breathing
was imperceptible. By mere touch, Sheldon could ascertain that the dying
man's temperature was going down. It must have been going down when the
thermometer registered one hundred and seven. He had burned out. Sheldon
knelt beside him, the house-boys grouped around, their white singlets and
loin-cloths peculiarly at variance with their dark skins and savage
countenances, their huge ear-plugs and carved and glistening nose-rings.
Sheldon tottered to his feet at last, and half-fell into the
steamer-chair. Oppressive as the heat had been, it was now even more
oppressive. It was difficult to breathe. He panted for air. The faces
and naked arms of the house-boys were beaded with sweat.
"Marster," one of them ventured, "big fella wind he come, strong fella
too much."
Sheldon nodded his head but did not look.
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