"Yes; in my other vest. Help me out, please."

"Not for Joe."

When I came round again, I said:

"Excuse the seemingly impertinent curiosity of a drowning man, but will
you explain this singular conduct of yours?"

"With pleasure. I am the coroner. Don't hurry on my account. I can
wait for you. But I wish I had a match."

I said: "Take my place, and I'll go and get you one."

He declined. This lack of confidence on his part created a coldness
between us, and from that time forward I avoided him. It was my idea,
in case anything happened to me, to so time the occurrence as to throw my
custom into the hands of the opposition coroner on the American side.

At last a policeman came along, and arrested me for disturbing the peace
by yelling at people on shore for help. The judge fined me, but had the
advantage of him. My money was with my pantaloons, and my pantaloons
were with the Indians.

Thus I escaped. I am now lying in a very critical condition. At least I
am lying anyway---critical or not critical. I am hurt all over, but I
cannot tell the full extent yet, because the doctor is not done taking
inventory. He will make out my manifest this evening. However, thus far
he thinks only sixteen of my wounds are fatal. I don't mind the others.