"If you cannot revive him, he ought to be brought to more comfortable quarters for the night." "In his present condition--of course," said Keyork with a sneer.
"Do you think he would be in danger on the way ?" "I never think--I know," snarled the sage.
The Wanderer showed a slight surprise at the roughness of the answer, but said nothing, contenting himself with watching the proceedings keenly.

He was by no means past suspecting that Keyork might apply some medicine the very reverse of reviving, if left to himself.

For the present there seemed to be no danger.

The pungent smell of salts of ammonia pervaded the place; but the Wanderer knew that Keyork had a bottle of ether in the pocket of his coat, and he rightly judged that a very little of that would put an end to the life that was hanging in the balance.

Nearly half an hour passed before either spoke again.