“That doesn’t excuse him for–––”
“There, Mack, don’t get mad. I was asking you for your own good. There’s something mighty mysterious about that affair, and I thought if you’d tell me just what took place that we’d be able to do something before that gang of rough-necks down to the Inn get the bits in their teeth.”
“I don’t see what the men at the Inn have to do with all this.”
“They ain’t got much to do with it, except to use it for a lever to pry you loose from the fellers who do like you. There’s real trouble of some sort being hatched down there, but I ain’t sure just what it’s like. Maybe there ain’t no use my worrying you with these suspicions, 84 but watch them skunks at the Inn, and don’t give ’em the inside of the track. Cal’late you’d best go over to supper, and see if Harry’s going to shut off the rations.”
Three days after this conversation Mr. McGowan’s month was up, and the hammer of Mr. Beaver’s authority came down. Captain Pott stood in his door, watching the pantomime as Mr. Beaver pumped, backed, stuttered, and blinked out the minister’s dismissal from his wife’s table. The Captain had an extra griddle on the stove when Mr. McGowan returned. Without question or comment he indicated a chair, and the minister smiled like a schoolboy as he drew it up before the place at the Captain’s table which he was to occupy from now on.
“Best eat ’em while they’re sizzling hot,” invited the Captain, dumping a turnerful of cakes on the empty plate.
When the men had divided the last flapjack, the minister announced that he was going for a stroll along the beach.
He was no sooner out of sight than over came Mrs. Beaver, carrying a large tin filled 85 with biscuits. Captain Pott took them to the pantry, and returned with the empty pan.
“Thanks, Eadie. Mr. McGowan will sure appreciate them.”
“Oh, Josiah! I hope he won’t blame me for what’s happened.”