Part 49 (1/2)
”Never mind how--it's a long chance and hardly worth trying, but--may I take the boat?”
”Certainly,” said he, ”there's one lying at the dock.”
He led her to the sh.o.r.e and saw her aboard, then waved good-bye and walked moodily back to the office, gratified that she should try to help him, yet certain that she could not succeed where he and George had failed.
”Fingerless” Fraser had breakfasted late, as was his luxurious custom, and shortly before noon, in the course of his dissatisfied meanderings, he found his friend in the office, lost in sombre thought. It was the first time in many weeks that he had seen this mood in Boyd, and after a fruitless effort to make him talk, he fell into his old habit of imaginary reading, droning away to himself as if from a printed page:
”'Your stay among us has not been very pleasant, has it?' Mr. Emerson inquired.
”'Not so that you could notice it,” replied our hero. 'I don't like fish, and I never did.'
”'That is the result of prejudice; the fish is a n.o.ble animal,' Mr.
Emerson declared.
”'He's not an animal at all,' our hero gently corrected. 'He's a biped, a regular wild biped without either love of home or affection for his children. The salmon is of a low order of intelligence, and has a Queen Anne slant to his roof. No person with a retreating forehead like that knows very much. The only other member of the animal kingdom that is as foolish as the salmon is Alton Clyde. The fish has got a shade the best of it over him; but as for friends.h.i.+p and the gentler emotions--why, the salmon hasn't got them at all. The only thing he's got is a million eggs and a sense of direction. If he had a spark of intelligence he'd lay one egg a year, like a hen, and thus live for a million years. But does he?
Not on your Sarony! He's a spendthrift, and turns his eggs loose--a hatful at a time. He's worse than a shotgun. And then, too, he's as clannish as a Harvard graduate, and don't a.s.sociate with n.o.body out of his own set. No, sir! Give me a warm-blooded animal that suckles its young. I'll take a farmer, every time,'
”'These are points I had never considered,' said Mr. Emerson, 'but every business has its drawbacks, you'll agree. If I have failed as a host, what can I do to entertain you while you grace our midst?'
”'You can do most anything,' remarked his handsome companion, 'You can climb a tree, or do anything except fish all the time.'
”'But it is a dark night without, and I fear some mischief is afoot!'
”'True! But yonder beautcheous gel--'”
Roused by the familiarity of these lines, Emerson looked up from his preoccupation and smiled at Fraser's serious pantomime.
”Am I as bad as all that?” he inquired, with an effort at pleasantry.
”You're worse, Bo! I guess you didn't know I was here, eh?”
”No. By-the-way, what about that 'beautcheous gel and the mischief that is afoot? What is the rest of the story?”
”I don't know. I never got past that place. Say! If I had time, I'll bet I could write a good book. I've got plenty to say.”
”Why don't you try it?”
”Too busy!” yawned the adventurer, lazily. ”Gee, this is a lonesome burg!
Kalvik is sure out in the tall gra.s.s, ain't it? I feel as if I'd like to break a pane of gla.s.s. Let's start something.”
”I don't find it particularly dull at the present moment.” Boyd rose and began to pace the room.
”Oh, I heard all about your trouble. I just left the pest-house.”
”The what?”
”The pest-house--Clyde's joint. Ain't he a calamity?”
”In what way?”