“Ain’t I the lucky one, eh? Lucky Cochran! That’s me. You spoke in your letter about troublin’ to wait for you; but, pshaw! It wasn’t any trouble to me, although it was right thoughtful and kind of you fellers to say so. Nothin’ ever troubles me. So I just found out from the boss porter at the hotel how you’d been makin’ inquiries about trains to San Dieger, and about the boat, and says I, ‘I’ll just pop down and join ’em, and won’t they be surprised to see that I’m goin’ to keep ’em company.’”

“We’re surprised, all right!” David remarked, but Cochran did not observe that he had omitted any reference to the happiness his arrival had caused.

Their sole remaining chance for peace now rested upon wind, wave, and weather. They hoped, earnestly, that Mr. Cochran would be as sick as the whale that swallowed Jonah; but Cochran’s luck held, and if the ship had turned somersaults, he would have merely laughed. For an hour they watched him solicitously before they gave way to despair. He talked as joyously as ever, roaring with laughter at his own jokes, and bubbling over with human kindness in sufficient quantities to deter them from murdering him. If he could have but kept his mouth shut, the partners would have rather liked him. And then Goliath suddenly gave a groan, clutched himself around the abdomen and said, “I got to get below. I feel awful, I do!” And away he went.

“Pore feller! I’m awful sorry for him. Anybody sick or ailin’ always gits my goat,” said Cochran sympathetically. “I couldn’t kill a rattlesnake, if it was hurted. One time I had a burro that busted its foreleg right above the pastern joint, and I couldn’t shoot it. Didn’t have the heart! And every time I tried to nuss it the damn thing bit me.”

David failed to draw the sympathetic connection between rattlers, mules, and his partner. Indeed, at the moment, he was solicitous for Goliath, and after a time went to investigate, and try to help, having much difficulty in dissuading Cochran from accompanying him. He found the giant on his back in the lower berth, calmly reading a dime novel.

“Thought you was seasick?” David blurted through the half-opened door.

“Seasick? Hell! I was talk sick!”

“Good! Never thought of that. I reckon I’m seasick, too. But what are we goin’ to do? Stay shut up here all the way to Frisco?”

“Either that, or chuck the perpetual-motion talkin’ machine overboard,” growled Goliath.

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