"I guess I'm going to be real sick. I never had such a fearful pain before in all my life."
He put his hand on the pit of his stomach, and there were sharp lines in his face that indicated intense agony. The dealer looked up sympathetically, and his partner said:
"I've got a little something with me from Kentucky. Perhaps it might do you good."
"I come from Maine," said the stranger, "and we don't drink rum down there. But, as a medicine, I might take a few drops, if you don't think it would go to my head."
The drummers assured him that something warming was just what he needed, and a bottle was brought forth. The man from Maine took a drink, cleared his throat, and seemed better at once. Then the game went on.
Lounging back in my seat and watching the dissolving panorama of snow-bound villages, I ruminated on the incident. It was impossible not to pity the people of Maine, whose strict prohibition principles deprived them of the gracious influence of a little stimulant in cases of sudden illness.
At Lynn I was reminded of the euchre players as one of the drummers got out and another passenger took his place. The last comer carried a gun case and was dressed for a hunting trip. When we reached Salem at 9.35 the two remaining drummers left. The lean stranger and the sportsman found two new partners and continued playing.
As I had finished my cigar and exhausted my newspaper, I tried to amuse myself by watching the game. When the cards were passed to the lean stranger he shook his head and pushed them over to his partner.
"Deal for me," he groaned; "I've got an awful pain in my side. It seems like pneumonia, but it may pass in a minute."
The group looked solicitous, and the sportsman, taking a black bottle from the pocket of his hunting-bag, said:
"Take some of this, man; you musn't fool with a pain like that."
"I come from the State of Maine," said the sufferer, "and I'm opposed to strong drink. But, rather than delay the game, gentlemen, I'll take a little as medicine."
