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Updated: June 28, 2025
"I 'low hit were about time somebody shot yo' easy, so's to give yo' repentance a chance to catch up with yo' wickedness. Don't yo'?" Prebol glared at the accusation, but Rasba pretended not to notice. "Yo' see, Prebol, this world is jes' the hounds a-chasin' the rabbits, er the rabbits a-gittin' out the way.
Doctor Grell advised that Prebol go down to Memphis, to the hospital, so as to have an X-ray examination, and any special treatment which might be necessary. The wound was healing nicely, but it would be better to make sure. Rasba took counsel of Prebol.
"Yas, suh the short eddy." "Much obliged, Doc. Co'se I'll pay yo' " "Your friend's paid!" "Yas, suh," Prebol whispered, sleepily, tired by the exertion and excitement. "Sleep'll do him good," the doctor said, and returned to his little motorboat. The young man went on board his own boat which was moored just below Prebol's.
So the wind possesses itself of the whole river breadth and living creatures are driven to shelter. Prebol, shot through and conscious of the reward of his manner of living; Slip, a fugitive under the menace of a murderer's fate; and Buck, given over to melancholy, were but types on the lengths and tributaries of the indifferent flood. Nothing happened, nothing could happen.
I 'low a horse doctor fixed hit first time," the physician declared. "He'll need some care now, but he's comin' along." "Oh, we'll look afteh him, Doc! Friend of ourn." "I'll come in to-morrow. It's written down what to do, and about that medicine. You can read?" "Howdy," Prebol muttered, feebly. "He's a comin' back, Doc!" the young man cried, starting up with interest.
Something boiled up in his thoughts, and he swore to himself that he owed nothing, that the world owed him, and he bridged the years of his disappointment and desolation back to the hour when he had stormed out of the life he had known, to come down the Mississippi to be a gambler. Prebol, in his lapses into delirium, called a woman's name, Sadie always Sadie!
"Crele's a good feller. Sent word down to have us take cyar of her, an' Prebol, the fool, didn't know 'er, hadn't heard. Look what she give him, bang in the shoulder! That old Prophet'll take cyar of him, course. See how hit works out. She shined up to Terabon, all right." "I 'low I better talk to him," Despard suggested. "Terabon's a good sport.
He remembered Jest Prebol, who was lying shot through in the boat alongside, and he went over to the boat, lighted the lamp, and sat down by the wounded man. Prebol was a little delirious, and Slip went over on his own boat, and called Buck out. "We got a sick man on our hands," he whispered. "Ain't Doc Grell come oveh yet?" "Come the last boat," Buck said, and called the doctor out.
It was a curious conceit, and Elijah Rasba, while he smiled at the humour of it, was at the same time conscious of its sad truth. Her presence on the river meant no good for any one; Prebol was but one of her victims; perhaps he was the least unfortunate of them all!
Rasba carried Prebol on his cot up to the bow of the big boat, and put him down where he could help watch the river, and they cast off. Prebol knew the bends and reaches, and named most of the landings; they gossiped about the people and the places.
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