Part 23 (2/2)
He paused and rested. Then presently continued: ”Now, Padre, I've got four hundred dollars--the most I ever had at one time in my life. And I'd like it to go to my old pal--though we had that difference, and parted. I guess we respect each other about the same as we ever did. And I wish you'd write it down so that the thing would be munic.i.p.al.”
Roscoe took pencil and paper and said: ”What's his name, Phil?”
”Sam--Tonga Sam.”
”But that isn't all his name?”
”No, I s'pose not, but it's all he ever had in general use. He'd got it because he'd been to the Tonga Islands and used to yarn about them. Put 'Tonga Sam, Phil Boldrick's Pal at Danger Mountain, ult'--add the 'ult,'
it's c'rrect.--That'll find him. And write him these words, and if you ever see him say them to him--'Phil Boldrick never had a pal that crowded Tonga Sam.'”
When the doc.u.ment was written, Roscoe read it aloud, then both signed it, Roscoe guiding the battered hand over the paper.
This done, there was a moment's pause, and then Phil said: ”I'd like to be in the open. I was born in the open--on the Madawaska. Take me out, Padre.”
Roscoe stepped to the door, and silently beckoned to Devlin and myself.
We carried him out, and put him beside a pine tree.
”Where am I now?” he said. ”Under the white pine, Phil.” ”That's right.
Face me to the north.”
We did so. Minutes pa.s.sed in silence. Only the song of the saw was heard, and the welting of the river. ”Padre,” he said at last hurriedly, ”lift me up, so's I can breathe.”
This was done.
”Am I facin' the big mill?”
”Yes.”
”That's c'rrect. And the 'lectric light is burnin' in the mill and in the town, an' the saws are all goin'?”
”Yes.”
”By gracious, yes--you can hear 'em! Don't they scrunch the stuff, though!” He laughed a little. ”Mr. Devlin an' you and me hev been pretty smart, hevn't we?”
Then a spasm caught him, and after a painful pause he called: ”It's the biggest thing in cables.... Stand close in the cage.... Feel her swing!--Safe, you bet, if he stands by the lever....”
His face lighted with the last gleam of living, and he said slowly: ”I hev a pal--at Danger Mountain.”
CHAPTER XV. IN THE TROUGH OF THE WINDS
The three days following the events recorded in the preceding chapter were notable to us all. Because my own affairs and experiences are of the least account, I shall record them first: they will at least throw a little light on the history of people who appeared previously in this tale, and disappeared suddenly when the 'Fulvia' reached London, to make room for others.
The day after Phil Boldrick's death I received a letter from Hungerford, and also one from Belle Treherne. Hungerford had left the Occidental Company's service, and had been fortunate enough to get the position of first officer on a line of steamers running between England and the West Indies. The letter was brusque, incisive, and forceful, and declared that, once he got his foot firmly planted in his new position, he would get married and be done with it. He said that Clovelly the novelist had given a little dinner at his chambers in Piccadilly, and that the guests were all our fellow-pa.s.sengers by the 'Fulvia'; among them Colonel Ryder, the bookmaker, Blackburn the Queenslander, and himself.
This is extracted from the letter:
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