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 glance the indications of suffering which Hernando could not conceal, and hastily depositing his burden, he returned in a few minutes with a glass which he handed to Hernando saying, "Heah, my boy, drink dis hot toddy. Yo' bettah keep out of dat mine. Dampness haint good fo' rheumatism."

Hernando drank the mixture and with Reuben's assistance went up to his room. Striking a light, the faithful negro opened the bed and turned to aid his charge in disrobing. The latter's face was positively livid.

"I reckon I gave yo' a po'ful dose, Massa. Yo' head is ready to pop," said Reuben apologetically.

"I do not understand it, Reuben. Of late, stimulants, even in infinitesimal doses, always affect me in this way."

"I'd bettah put yo' feet in good hot watah, it will draw de blood from yo' head."

Hernando barely retained an upright position during this operation. He felt literally "dead for sleep." Reuben kept his own opinion to himself, mentally determining that