it. Thompson's face was turning gray; I knew mine hadn't any color left
in it. By and by Thompson rested his forehead in his left hand, with his
elbow on his knee, and sort of waved his red handkerchief towards the box
with his other hand, and said,--

"I've carried a many a one of 'em,--some of 'em considerable overdue,
too,--but, lordy, he just lays over 'em all!--and does it easy Cap., they
was heliotrope to HIM!"

This recognition of my poor friend gratified me, in spite of the sad
circumstances, because it had so much the sound of a compliment.

Pretty soon it was plain that something had got to be done. I suggested
cigars. Thompson thought it was a good idea. He said,

"Likely it'll modify him some."

We puffed gingerly along for a while, and tried hard to imagine that
things were improved. But it wasn't any use. Before very long, and
without any consultation, both cigars were quietly dropped from our
nerveless fingers at the same moment. Thompson said, with a sigh,

"No, Cap., it don't modify him worth a cent. Fact is, it makes him
worse, becuz it appears to stir up his ambition. What do you reckon we
better do, now?"

I was not able to suggest anything; indeed, I had to be swallowing and
swallowing, all the time, and did not like to trust myself to speak.
Thompson fell to maundering, in a desultory and low-spirited way, about
the miserable experiences of this night; and he got to referring to my