Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine — page 93: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

GREEN SPIDERS. ‘and the promontory where George Letcher was concealed seemed a mere speck. The shortness of shadows and the vertical posi- tio of the sun showed that it was already past noon. Both our. watches. had stopped running on account of our plunge in the ocean. Without further loss of time, we rowed to the eastern side of the promontory near the point. Here, beaching the boat in a sheltered inlet, we clambered up the rocks. After a short, unsuccessful search,. we. re- turned to the boat in the inlet to compare notes. We had found. the spot where Letcher had passed the night. To judge by the marks of ,his' shoes, he had crawled from his hiding-place down to. the beach several times that morning. Then he had walked westward some hundred yards toward Ulm- | quist’s camp. If it had been Letcher’s in- tention to throw himself upon the mercy _ of Ulmquist, he had, for some unknown | reason, changed his mind and darted into ' a clump of scrub bushes near the foot of the cliff. From this concealment he had been dragged only after a struggle. The marks of five pairs of feet, including those of Ulmquist and the biggest of the negroes, told the story. “Well, doc,” said Mankus, sitting down on his thick haunches and opening a case of biscuit which we had brought for George Letcher, ‘I claimed. all along he’d j’in that skunk Ul’quist. Good riddance to bad rub- bitch, the hull pack on ’em, says I. Lay to at the grub, doc. Better carry our ballast a leetle higher up on the back trip. An’ we'd. oughta be a startin’ before the surf gits any heftier.” By. this time, however, I was mad clear through, and obstinate. The failure of my plan to accomplish my mission and return hours ago to the comfort of the ship had been caused solely ,by the mate’s folly. Perhaps the loss of a good hot lunch was mainly responsible for my present black mood. Of course, George Letcher was probably as well off with the crew as he would be on the Irene Statler. Particular respect or friendly regard for Letcher I had not. He seemed to have stolen a march on us all, 485 so far as the girl was concerned. Though I scorned to elevate him to the dignity of a rival, I began to foresee that he might prove a much more important figure in the final reckoning than I had at first been. led to believe. Furthermore, the easiest thing for me to do would be to. leave him to. his fate and return, as Mankus now suggested, to the ship. But would it be so simple a-matter to explain the reason of my. failure to Dor- othy, whose concern over his prolonged ab- sence had been: genuine? This thought, as much. as my slumbering anger against the mate and. my impulse to espouse any plan in: direct opposition. to his own, may have been responsible for my de- cision. ‘Out with the rest of'that chow and the water cask,” I said impatiently. ‘ Out with. them, and hide them away in these bushes.” “Hey?” asked Mankus, stuffing his mouth full of crackers. ‘‘ What’s the lay?” “Tm going to stay here.” “Oh, come now,, doc, that. ain’t—” “ Oh, yes, it is!” ‘ But what you a goin’ t’ do?” “What I set out to do! After dark I’m going over to the camp. You go back to the ship and tell Mr. Falkens.” Ah, even in this. civilized age it is fre- quently a quick solution of difficulties to _ tote a gun at one’s hip,. 1 had removed. the gun from Mankus while he was recovering from his plunge, and. it now enabled. me to speak with entire authority. “Oh! Aye!” he grunted, jerking loose the painter from the bush. “ If yer dome’s sot on it, that’s the answer to that ques- tion.” He inserted the oars-in the locks and shoved the boat into the water. Then he glanced back hungrily at the half-finished box of biscuits. “Tell ye what, doc.. Give me three more biseuits an’ Ill bring grub enough fer two right away. But, doc,” he cried with a note of: sincerity, ‘recollect that skunk Ulquist ain’t got no love fer ye. He’s like t’? cut yer windpipes at. bolo-range. Go slow, doc. , Jist supposin’ ye never was to show up no more?” : Commiclooolks.comn a ert