“I get you,” said Bat, thoughtfully. “But I also see some holes in your argument. It’s not nearly so good as the doctor’s spiel for fresh air. The skipper, if he’s on his job and has the craft, has no right to let a blow keep him in bed; and I’ve seen real two-handed lads hold to the passes in all weathers. So far as the careful man is concerned—well, different people have different ideas about what makes up a man of that kind. Your notion of one seems to be a man who wouldn’t take a chance except in his own affairs. But, in my little book, he’s written down as one who’d think his friend’s affair just as important—and he’d be just as anxious to set it right.”
“I think,” said the doctor, turning, “we’d better make our way down to the road. The moon, in a few moments, will be under the clouds, and the path is rather steep.”
The drawn man coughed and nodded to Mr. Scanlon.
“Good-night,” said he. “Now that you are out,” and he smiled disagreeably, “I trust you’ll enjoy yourself.”
“Thanks,” replied the big man, coolly. “I’ve always had kind of a knack of doing that; so I shouldn’t wonder if I did.”
CHAPTER X
SHOWS HOW MRS. KRETZ SPOKE HER MIND
BAT SCANLON stood for a space under the neighbourly tree; he could hear the drawn man coughing away into the gloom at the foot of the hill.
“Now,” observed he, “am I indeed over my head. Not only have we one man in this little matter who is so far through that he must be shoved along in a chair, but here comes another who goes wheezing around on one lung and throwing hints of a threatening nature.”
He slipped an automatic pistol from his hip pocket—a black, bulky, deadly thing; and he smoothed it with a feeling of satisfaction.
“Hints are all very well,” he went on; “but they never did any harm, and they never got anybody anything. Doing’s what counts; and all I’ve got to say is, let somebody start doing something I don’t like.”