“Please me, boy? I shall be delighted. To-morrow morning the salmon will be running up the river again, and we may hoist the signal for help. I say, you don’t think Jack Lawrence has gone yet?”
“No, father,” said Nic; “I do not.”
“Why, Nic?—why?” cried the old sailor.
“Because he said to me he should certainly come up and see us again before he went.”
“To be sure; so he did to me, Nic. I say, my boy, I—that is—er—wasn’t I a little bit crusty this morning to you and poor old William Solly?”
“Well, yes; just a little, father,” said Nic, taking his arm.
“Sorry for it. Change of the weather, Nic, affects me. It was coming on. I must apologise to Solly. Grand old fellow, William Solly. Saved my life over and over again. Man who would die for his master, Nic; and a man who would do that is more than a servant, Nic—he is a friend.”