"I feel like I hev
been knifed, that's whut!" he would declare. This symptom was presently
succeeded by a "misery in his breast-bone," and a racking cough seemed
likely to shake to pieces his old skeleton, growing daily more
perceptible under his dry, shrivelled skin. A fever shortly set in, but
it proved of scanty interest to the local physician, when called by the
boss of the construction gang to look in upon him, in one of the rickety
shacks which housed the force of laborers, and which was his temporary
home.
"There's no show for him," the doctor laconically remarked. "Lungs,
heart, throat, all have got into the game. You had better get rid of
him--he will never be of any use again."
"Throw him over the bluff, eh?" the jolly, portly boss asked with a
twinkling eye. "We ain't much on transportation yet."
"Well, it's no great matter. He'll provide his own transportation before
long;" and the physician stepped into his buggy with an air of finality.
The old man had, however, unsuspected reserves of vitality.
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