i68 Winkle: the Eel-Man 



meanwhile. As usual, I fell asleep, and was 

 roused an hour later by Winkle giving me a 

 hearty shake. In an instant I was on my 

 feet; but what a change had come over 

 Winkle ! His old, odd ways were gone ; 

 the charm of his unique manner and even 

 appearance was a thing of the past. He was 

 now merely a bundle of irritated nerves that 

 excessive stimulation was steadily breaking 

 down. I foresaw his end was near, but did 

 not venture to ask any questions or offer any 

 advice. I knew that to preach temperance 

 would only provoke wrath. I was genuinely 

 sorry for him, but helpless so far as check- 

 ing his downfall was concerned. I could 

 only stand aside and let him go his own 

 pace. 



And the end came. Two days later, I 

 was summoned, before daylight, to his cabin. 

 He had been found, by chance, by a passing 

 fisherman. As the first rays of the rising 

 sun glinted through the trees I entered the 

 shanty, and there found Winkle, dead, lying 

 on his face. His arms were outstretched, 

 and in one hand he held a canvas shot-bag 

 partly filled with coin, and in the other was 

 a rusty nail. What the latter meant was 



