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And the soft warblings of the lover's lute. After his writing, he went to the wharf and fished for a while. As it happened he caught nothing, but it was fun enough just to put out the rod and draw it in again. Big Chief Whitney laughed. “It would have come sooner or later, so don’t worry your head about it. I’ve got to beat this some time and it might as well be now. I’ll find a way. But don’t let this bother you, kid. These are my exclusive troubles. Some day or other, if you stay with the Service, I suppose you’ll be a Chief Engineer and then you’ll have to worry over things like this. No use in borrowing trouble.” And with this he closed the talk..
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“Jerry, Jerry, old scout! I’m sorry as I can be. Forgive me for not having faith in you. I wanted to all the time!” He did not feel he was doing his share[156] towards clearing up the trouble which threatened to break. Cudgel his brains as he would, there seemed nothing for him to do. It had been his idea to send Ted off, but since then he might just as well have been in Alaska for all the good he’d been. For a long time he lay there, without finding a way out of his difficulty. For a time all went well, but soon Jerry said in a whisper—somehow the dark made him whisper rather than speak aloud—“I can’t touch the roof any more, can you?” It was Miguel Philipe, who during the excitement had been left lying bound in the bushes where the Indian had dumped him. When he was brought under the light of the porch, he was a sorry looking specimen. He had been unable to defend himself from the insects and his face was puffed and mottled and his eyes almost closed..
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