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Updated: June 8, 2025
The pain of it awakened me, and, dropping the charred end, I stumbled out into the passage, almost falling on the way as my feet entangled themselves in Captain Coffin's best table-cloth. A moment later I was rapping at Mr. George Goodfellow's door.
The workmen began to scoop out the sawdust with their hands; one of them, evidently desirous of making sure that no body was in the coffin, thrust down his fingers at various places along its length. He, too, laughed. "The coffin's weighted with lead!" he remarked. "See!"
'Tis all but life art could not save Thy graces, Emma, from the grave; Thy cheek is pale, thy smile is past, Thy love-lit eyes have looked their last, Mouldering beneath the coffin's lid, All we adored of thee is hid; Thy heart, where goodness loved to dwell, Is throbless in the narrow cell: Thy gentle voice shall charm no more, Its last, last joyful note is o'er.
I woke up with it." "That's when it hit me," said Phillip. "But I don't understand," Coffin howled. "Nobody else seems to notice anything " "Yet," said Phillip, "we were the first three to take the Coffin Cure, remember? You, and me and Jake. Two months ago." Coffin's forehead was beaded with sweat. He stared at the two men in growing horror. "But what about the others?" he whispered.
Racey drove an accurate bullet through Doc Coffin's mouth. The bullet ranging upward, and making its exit through the parietal bone, let in the light on Doc's hitherto darkened intellect in more ways than one. Doc Coffin's forefinger, tightening convulsively on the trigger of its wearer's sixshooter, sent an unaimed shot downward.
"This is how it was," answered the skipper, bolting the mouthful, "you see the `Coffin's' not in a fit state for sea; she's leaky all over, an' there's a plank under the starboard quarter, just abaft the cabin skylight, that has fairly struck work, caulk it and pitch it how you please, it won't keep out the sea no longer, so when we was about to take in cargo, I wrote to Mr Stuart tellin' him of it, an' advisin' repairs, but he wrote back, sayin' it was very awk'ard at this time to delay that cargo, an' askin' if I couldn't work the pumps as I had used to do, besides hintin' that he thought I must be gettin' timid as I grew old!
"And the stranger," Doc Coffin accepted the amendment. "What was the trouble?" pursued Racey. "Well, we kind of thought" Doc Coffin's eyes slid round to cross an instant the shifty gaze of Peaches Austin "we thought maybe this stranger dealt a card from the bottom. We ain't none shore." "Dale said he did, anyhow," said Peaches Austin. "He said so twice," put in Lanpher. Racey turned deliberately.
A room gloomy with black walnut and fragrant with camphor was dimly visible. "Cheerful's a tomb, ain't it?" was Mrs. Coffin's comment. "Well, we'll get some light and air in here pretty soon. Here's the front hall and there's the front stairs. The parlor's off to the left. We won't bother with that yet a while. This little place in here is what Mr.
This introduction proving more than satisfactory, we were ushered into a small room apart and the door locked behind us: but missing Uncle Coffin's inspiration in this case, and remembering the quality of the liquid, I made a smart show of drinking, without in the least diminishing the contents of the bottle.
Lots of folks do business that way. I suppose now you'll be seeing Nebraska in a day or two maybe." "I might," admitted Doc Coffin. "Friend of his?" purred Racey. "I might be." Doc Coffin's spare frame grew somewhat rigid. "Well," Racey drawled softly, "I heard Nebraska's friends are looking for me. I'm here to save 'em the trouble of strainin' their eyes." "So that's it, huh?"
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