Now, Merriam, shake hands and
forget it all. I was as much to blame as you were; and the shot
really did me good--I came out of the hospital as healthy and fit as
a cab horse. Come on; that drink's waiting."
"Old man," said Merriam, brokenly, "I don't know how to thank you--I
--well, you know--"
"Oh, forget it," boomed Hedges. "Quinby'll die of thirst if we don't
join him."
Bibb was sitting on the shady side of the gallery waiting for the
eleven-o'clock breakfast. Presently Merriam came out and joined him.
His eye was strangely bright.
"Bibb, my boy," said he, slowly waving his hand, "do you see those
mountains and that sea and sky and sunshine?--they're mine, Bibbsy
--all mine."
"You go in," said Bibb, "and take eight grains of quinine, right away.
It won't do in this climate for a man to get to thinking he's
Rockefeller, or James O'Neill either."
Inside, the purser was untying a great roll of newspapers, many of
them weeks old, gathered in the lower ports by the _Pajaro_ to be
distributed at casual stopping-places. Thus do the beneficent voyagers
scatter news and entertainment among the prisoners of sea and
mountains.
Tio Pancho, the hotel proprietor, set his great silver-rimmed _anteojos_
upon his nose and divided the papers into a number of smaller rolls.
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