ighty faint answer he gave back, and when me and Tom had
rigged up the chair again we found we had a sick man on our hands. The
exposure had nearly done for him; that, and the fear of being caught,
and all the water having leaked out of the demijohn, which he had stood
on its side the better to hide it. He was that weak he could hardly sit
up, and was partly off his nut, besides, wanting to telephone at once to
Longhurst, and mixing up Tom with the Public Prosecutor.

He would put his poor old trembling hand across his forehead like he was
trying to wipe all this away, saying, "Is that you, Tom Riley?" and,
"Bill, Bill," like that. It was no easy matter to get him down, for he
almost needed to be lifted into the boatswain's chair, and couldn't as
much as raise a little finger to help himself or hold on, and once we
nearly spilled him out altogether. Fortunately, my old girl had brought
some hot coffee in a beer bottle, and this was just like pouring new
life down his throat. Our first business was to get him home and tuck
him in, returning and making a second trip of the treasure, and winding
up all serene about two in the morning, with Old Dibs sitting up in bed
and eating fried eggs.

When Iosefo reported next morning, Old Dibs paid him a hundred dollars
and dispensed with his services, saying that though he'd always be glad
to see him around as a friend, he had no more call to keep him sitting
on the chest. This made Tom and me feel good, for it showed he trusted
us now, which he had never quite done before. In a day or two he was
almost as lively as ever, out in the graveyard playing on his flute, and
attending to church work on committee nights the same as before.

But there was a big change in him for all that, and me and Tom got it
into our heads that he wasn't going to live very long, for he had that
distressed look on his face that showed something wrong inside. He used
to run on talking to himself half the night, and once he burst in to
where I was asleep, saying he had seen me at the treasure chest, prizing
off the lid, and what did I mean by it? After having lived together so
long and comfortable, it wasn't very pleasant to see him going crazy on
us--and going crazy that way--being suspicious we meant to rob and kill
him, and all of us being in a conspiracy. He told the pastor he was
afraid of his life of Tom and me, and if it wasn't for Iosefo he would
be fearful to stay in my house a minute; and he told T