“I’ve reached the end of my resources now,” laughed Maseden. “I resolved to keep this small stock of tobacco till the time came when we might regard half our troubles as ended. I think we’ve reached that stage to-night. After this morning’s escape I shall never again lose hope until the light goes out forever.”
“Oh, please, don’t put it that way,” said Nina.
“I mean it as an optimist,” he exclaimed. “If I have to swim in the open sea, or am buried under a landslide, I shall still believe, while my senses last, that Providence will see me through. Do you know why? You might supply many good reasons, but not the reason. Ten minutes after we climbed under that overhanging rock, it fell. I happened to look back, and saw it collapse. None of us heard the crash, because we were close to a rather noisy rapid at the moment. But I actually saw the thing happen.”
“Why didn’t you tell us at the time?” inquired Madge.
“I thought our nervous systems, collectively, had borne enough strain just then.... Here you are, C. K. I give you first turn with the pipe.”
“Not on your life!” vowed Sturgess, flaming into volcanic energy. “If I never smoke again, I’ll not touch that pipe until you’ve gone right through a packed bowl-full.”
Maseden knew that his friend meant what he said, so filled and lighted the pipe immediately.
“It’s a moot point,” he commented philosophically, “whether you don’t enjoy smoking more in anticipation than I in actuality. I haven’t smoked now during sixteen days, and I believe I could give it up for sixteen years if need be.”
“Good gracious!” tittered Madge. “Poor C. K. will have only two years of his beloved New York.”
It was a subtle thrust. Sturgess himself was the first to see its point.