Part 8 (2/2)
”Am I one of those other men?” inquired Lesard, with an unhappy smile.
Before I could reply my door was shoved open and a figure appeared at the threshold, cap in hand.
”What do you want?” I asked, sternly; but my heart was beating high with triumph.
The figure shuffled; then came a subdued voice:
”Mister, I guess I'll go back to the Graham Glacier along with you.
I'm Billy Spike, an' it kinder scares me to go back to them Hudson Mountains, but somehow, mister, when you choked me and kinder walked me off on my ear, why, mister, I kinder took to you like.”
There was absolute silence for a minute; then he said:
”So if you go, I guess I'll go, too, mister.”
”For a thousand dollars?”
”Fur nawthin',” he muttered--”or what you like.”
”All right, Billy,” I said, briskly; ”just look over those rifles and ammunition and see that everything's sound.”
He slowly lifted his tough young face and gave me a doglike glance.
They were hard eyes, but there was grat.i.tude in them.
”You'll get your throat slit,” whispered Lesard.
”Not while Billy's with me,” I replied, cheerfully.
Late that night, as I was preparing for pleasant dreams, a knock came on my door and a telegraph-messenger handed me a note, which I read, s.h.i.+vering in my bare feet, although the thermometer marked eighty Fahrenheit:
”You will immediately leave for the Hudson Mountains via Wellman Bay, Labrador, there to await further instructions.
Equipment for yourself and one a.s.sistant will include following articles” [here began a list of camping utensils, scientific paraphernalia, and provisions]. ”The steamer _Penguin_ sails at five o'clock to-morrow morning. Kindly find yourself on board at that hour. Any excuse for not complying with these orders will be accepted as your resignation.
”SUSAN SMAWL, ”President Bronx Zoological Society.”
”Lesard!” I shouted, trembling with fury.
He appeared at his door, chastely draped in pajamas; and he read the insolent letter with terrified alacrity.
”What are you going to do--resign?” he asked, much frightened.
”Do!” I snarled, grinding my teeth; ”I'm going--that's what I'm going to do!”
”But--but you can't get ready and catch that steamer, too,” he stammered.
He did not know me.
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