Part 13 (2/2)
”Strong drink, brother, call it by its right name,” said May, gently pressing the arm on which she leaned.
”Well--have it so. Strong drink has been getting the better of me--mind I don't admit it _has_ got the better of me yet--only _is getting_--and convivial comrades have had a great deal to do with it. Now, as you know, I'm a man of some decision of character, and I had long ago made up my mind to break with my companions. Of course I could not very well do this while--while I was--well, no matter why, but this offer just seemed to be a sort of G.o.dsend, for it will enable me to cut myself free at once, and the sea breezes and Rocky Mountain air and gold-hunting will, I expect, take away the desire for strong drink altogether.”
”I hope it will--indeed I am _sure_ it will if it is G.o.d's way of leading you,” said May, with an air of confidence.
”Well, I don't know whether it is G.o.d who is leading me or--”
”Did you not call it a G.o.d-send just now--”
”Oh, but that's a mere form of speech, you know. However, I do know that it was on this very beach where we now stand that a friend led me for the first time to think seriously of this matter--more than a year ago.”
”Indeed--who was it?” asked May eagerly.
”My chum and old school-fellow, poor Charlie Brooke,” returned Shank, in a strangely altered voice.
Then he went on to tell of the conversation he and his friend had had on that beach, and it was not till he had finished that he became aware that his sister was weeping.
”Why, May, you're crying. What's the matter?”
”G.o.d bless him!” said May in fervent yet tremulous tones as she looked up in her brother's face. ”Can you wonder at my feeling so strongly when you remember how kind Charlie always was to you--to all of us indeed--ever since he was a little boy at school with you; what a true-hearted and steady friend he has always been. And you called him poor Charlie just now, as if he were dead.”
”True indeed, it is very, very sad, for we have great reason to fear the worst, and I have strong doubt that I shall never see my old chum again.
But I won't give up hope, for it is no uncommon thing for men to be lost at sea, for years even, and to turn up at last, having been cast away on a desert island, like Robinson Crusoe, or something of that sort.”
The thoughts which seemed to minister consolation to Shank Leather did not appear to afford much comfort to his sister, who hung her head and made no answer, while her companion went on--
”Yes, May, and poor Charlie was the first to make me feel as if I were a little selfish, though that as you know, is not one of my conspicuous failings! His straightforwardness angered me a little at first, but his kindness made me think much of what he said, and--well, the upshot of it all is that I am going to California.”
”I am glad--so glad and thankful he has had so much influence over you, dear Shank, and now, don't you think--that--that if Charlie were with you at this moment he would advise you not to go to Mr Smithers to consult about your plans?”
For a few moments the brother's face betrayed a feeling of annoyance, but it quickly cleared away.
”You are right, May. Smithers is too much of a convivial harum-scarum fellow to be of much use in the way of giving sound advice. I'll go to see Jamieson instead. You can have no objection to him--surely. He's a quiet, sober sort of man, and never tries to tempt people or lead them into mischief--which is more than can be said of the other fellow.”
”That is a very negative sort of goodness,” returned May, smiling.
”However, if you must go to see some one, Jamieson is better than Smithers; but why not come home and consult with mother and me?”
”Pooh! what can women know about such matters? No, no, May, when a fellow has to go into the pros and cons of Californian life it must be with _men_.”
”H'm! the men you a.s.sociate with, having been at school and the desk all their lives up till now, must be eminently fitted to advise on Californian life! That did not occur to me at the first blus.h.!.+” said May demurely.
”Go home, you cynical baggage, and help mother to knit,” retorted Shank, with a laugh. ”I intend to go and see Jamieson.”
And he went. And the negatively good Jamieson, who never led people into temptation, had no objection to be led into that region himself, so they went together to make a pa.s.sing call--a mere look in--on Smithers, who easily induced them to remain. The result was that the unselfish man with decision of character returned home in the early hours of morning--”screwed.”
CHAPTER TEN.
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