and to express bewildered cogitation.

"How long had poor Timmins been drowned?" the captain had asked him, and
Trendon replied:

"Captain Parkinson, the man wasn't drowned. No water in his lungs."

"Not drowned! Then how came he by his death?"

"If I were to diagnose it under any other conditions I should say that he
had inhaled flames."

Then the two men stared at each other in blank impotency. Meantime the
scarecrow was showing signs of returning consciousness and a message was
dispatched for the physician. On his way he met Barnett, who asked and
received permission to accompany him. The stranger was tossing restlessly
in his bunk, opening and shutting his parched mouth in silent, piteous
appeal for the water that must still be doled to him parsimoniously.

"I think I'll try him with a little brandy," said Trendon, and sent for
the liquor.

Barnett raised the patient while the surgeon held the glass to his lips.
The man's hand rose, wavered, and clasped the glass.

"All right, my friend. Take it yourself, if you like," said Trendon.

The fingers closed. Tremulously held, the little glass tilted and rattled
against the teeth. There was one deep, eager spasm of swallowing. Then
the fevered eyes opened upon the face of the _Wolverine_'s first