He was apparently nearly fifty years of age. His face and form were
terribly shrunken, and his untrimmed hair and beard and generally
untidy appearance made him a repulsive object indeed.
"That's him," whispered Pep. "Glad he's asleep. Hope he don't raise
no row when he wakes up."
Just then the man turned and moaned to himself.
"Water! Water!" he cried.
"Have you any?" asked Richard.
"Yes, but 'tain't fresh," replied Pep. "I'll get some."
And catching up a pail, he ran out of the room and down the stairs.
"That man has a raging fever," declared Frank, after a careful look
at the sufferer.
"There ought to be more ventilation here," said Richard, "I'm going
to open that window."
For the dormer window, the only one in the place, was tightly closed.
It was no easy job. The window had probably not been opened for some
time, and stuck obstinately. Finally it went up with a bang, and a
draught of fresh air swept into the place.
"It's a pretty stiff breeze," remarked Frank; "but too much is certainly
better than too little."
The noise had aroused the sick man, and, opening his eyes, he stared
at the two boys.
"Ah, I've caught you!" he cried. "Pep! Pep! Bind them--don't let 'em
get away Where's the water?--
"Water, water everywhere,
Upon the deep blue sea;
Water, water, here and there,
But not a drop for me!
"That used to be Doc's favorite song.
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