de shine, de northers nor de anything-umph! not even de rheumatiz."
Here the old man cut short his soliloquy, stooping down to rub the
afflicted member that so retarded his progress, and whose pain was
an ever-present reminder that his agility and youth were gone
forever. Erecting himself, he began again, "Dis bin a putty hard
winter on mos' anybody, 'specially on de rheumatiz. But for de
w'iskey bitters of de boss, old Peter wouldn't be as spry is he is.
Boss says, 'W'iskey bitters mighty good for anything,' an' I believe
him. Here it's Jinnivery, an' the winter mos' gone, an' the
rheumatiz will work out of me by next winter, an' then I'll be as
good as new again." By this time the old carrier stood over against
the Citadel Square, and halting for a moment in his hobbling march,
he looked right and left, backward and forward, and then said,
"Guess I'll save a block in going to Vine street, by cutting through
the Citadel Square-so I will. The gates are always locked at this
hour, but I know where I can slip through under a loose plank,
papers and all." So saying, he hobbled across the street, found the
opening, and doubling himself up, went through it in a trice. Then
trudging on, he bethought himself again of the sovereign remedy for
all his ailments, "rheumatiz" especially, and he continued with
evident delight:

"Next winter w'iskey bitters will be good too, and de boss will be
shure to have 'nuff for us both. I 'spec' the boss teched wid de
rheumatiz. I'll-Hallo! w'at's dat? Jes' git out ob my way, ole
grunter. Dis ole Peter."

"Oh, God! help me! come here!" groaned a half audible voice. "Come
to me! help me! help me!"