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At last a man walked down and sat down close to that bush, and put a pipe
in his mouth, and lit a match, and followed me with one eye and kept the
other on the match, while he sheltered it in his hands from the wind.
Presently a puff of wind blew it out. The next time I swept around he
said:
"
"
"
Got a match?"
Yes; in my other vest. Help me out, please."
Not for Joe."
When I came round again, I said:
"Excuse the seemingly impertinent curiosity of a drowning man, but will
you explain this singular conduct of yours?"
"With pleasure. I am the coroner. Don't hurry on my account. I can
wait for you. But I wish I had a match."
I said: "Take my place, and I'll go and get you one."
He declined. This lack of confidence on his part created a coldness
between us, and from that time forward I avoided him. It was my idea,
in case anything happened to me, to so time the occurrence as to throw my
custom into the hands of the opposition coroner on the American side.
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