That blasted stuff's cooked my innards to rags, an' I kin feel my backbone a-sizzlin'.

Say, Steward, do, for the Lord's sake, come here, an' take this thing off, while there's a little life left in me." STEWARD.--"Can't do anything yet.

You must grin and bear it a little while longer." EIGHTH TEN MINUTES.--"Holy smoke! I couldn't suffer more if I was in the lake of burnin' brimstone.

Every ounce of me's jest fryin'.

Say, Steward! Steward!" STEWARD (ANGRILY).--"I have told you several times that I couldn't do anything for you yet awhile.