closer under some warm covering, a stinging taste in his mouth of fiery
liquor and the aromatic steam of hot coffee, were his first returning
sensations. His head and neck were swathed in coarse bandages, and his
skin stiffened and smarting with soap. He was lying in a rude berth
under a half-deck from which he could see the sky and the bellying sail,
and presently a bearded face filled with rough and practical concern
that peered down upon him.

"Hulloo! comin' round, eh? Hold on!" The next moment the stranger had
leaped down beside Elijah. He seemed to be an odd mingling of the sailor
and ranchero with the shrewdness of a seaport trader.

"Hulloo, boss! What was it? A free fight, or a wash-out?"

"A wash-out!"* Elijah grasped the idea as an inspiration. Yes, his cabin
had been inundated, he had taken to a raft, had been knocked off twice
or thrice, and had lost everything--even his revolver!

* A mining term for the temporary inundation of a claim by
flood; also used for the sterilizing effect of flood on
fertile soil.

The man looked relieved. "Then it ain't a free fight, nor havin' your
crust busted and bein' robbed by beach combers, eh?"

"No," said Elijah, with his first faint smile.

"Glad o' that," said the man bluntly. "Then thar ain't no police
business to tie up to in 'Frisco? We were stuck thar a week once, just
because we chanced to pick up a feller who'd been found gagged and then