[CHAPTER XVII]
CAUGHT NAPPING
Jack was shocked at the words and manner of the young fisherman. His chums even half turned away in disgust, believing that their mission was doomed to failure. But Jack did not give up a thing so easily.
“Wait,” he said, quietly; “I don’t believe you know, Andy. When did you hear from home last?”
“Never once,” gritted the other, morosely, showing that his wrongs had eaten into his very soul. “Didn’t want to, neither. Made up my mind I cud take care of myself. Done it too, all these years. Got money laid up; and goin’ to be married in the fall.”
“Then you didn’t know your mother was dead?” Jack went on.
“Oh!” exclaimed Andy, starting, and showing signs of emotion. “I never heard that Ma was gone! Yes, I’m sorry I didn’t see her again. She was never so bitter as dad; but only weak like.”
Jack heard him sigh, and knew a start had been made.
“Listen, Andy,” he went on; “your father is subject to strokes. One of them will carry him off. It may be today, or tomorrow, but not a great while can he stay here. He is bitterly sorry for what he did. He wants to tell you so, to ask you to forgive him before he too dies.”