“Which meant you were mighty near the end,” Case said firmly. “If it had not been for Captain Joe’s catching you before you got too deep down, I don’t believe you would ever have come up again. We threw the rope to you and when you brushed it off we knew what the trouble was. We kicked off our shoes and were going over after you when we saw Captain Joe come to your rescue.” He lowered his voice anxiously. “Remember you’re not going to tell about that vision of yours?”
Alex smiled blissfully. “No, it’s just our own little secret, Case. Maybe bye and bye I’ll make up some more nice verses and we will sing them over until you catch the words and then when we are alone we can have some nice talks about her.”
Case departed groaning in spirit, realizing that if he had disposed of two possible tormentors, there still remained a third, the worst of all.
Clay climbed out of the engine hold to greet the invalid. “Well, how’s the boy?”
“Fine and dandy,” Alex smiled back. “Feel as though I could set up and take some nourishment now.”
“I’ll have Ike start up the fire and make you a bowl of oyster soup. It isn’t good for one to eat much after swallowing so much salt water. Well, you missed the last glimpse of Nome.”
Alex grinned, “I don’t mind that so much. I guess I saw enough of Nome that first day to last me.”
“We’ll soon be getting in sight of St. Michael’s Island,” Clay continued. “I’m going to slow down going past the island. I want to punish the Yukon Kid for bragging over that clumsy old river tub he calls a steamboat. After we get well past we’ll speed up and run up the river ’till well along in the afternoon. Then we can anchor in some cozy nook and get a good night’s rest. I don’t believe that steamer will pass us before morning. Look. Alex, you can see the island now. That blot of green straight ahead of the bow. Now I’m going to let her out to the last notch. Watch her go.”
Clay shoved the timer over to the last notch and the Rambler, raising a still higher wave at her bow, ploughed like a shark through the small billows.
“Going some, isn’t she son?’ exulted Clay, wiping his hands on a bit of waste.