What is it ?" he asked, shifting and twitching in his seat--refusing an armchair--refusing a drink.
"Tell us first what's the matter with you," said Fred.
"Oh, nothing.

An old wound.

A lion once dragged me by this shoulder half a mile or so.

At this time of year I get pains.

They last a day or two, then pass--Go on, tell me!" He never sat really still once that whole evening, yet never once complained or made a gesture of impatience.
"I propose," said Fred, with a glance at Yerkes and me, "to tell Courtney everything without reserve." The little old hunter nodded, watching us with bright blue eyes.