Beyond this he had received no damage, so Jack remained just long enough to dress his hurts, and make sure that he was still fit for duty.
Once more entering the boat, Jack pushed off. “Good-bye, boys!” said he, as the sailors pulled away. “Farewell, Teddy, mind you find me out when you go up to Quebec.”
“Bad luck to me av I don’t,” cried the Irishman, whose eyes became watery in spite of himself.
“And don’t let the ghosts get the better of you!” shouted Jack.
O’Donel shook his head. “Ah, they’re a bad lot, sur—but sorrow wan o’ them was iver so ugly as him!”
He concluded this remark by pointing over his shoulder with his thumb in the direction of the house where the new clerk lay, a hideous, though not severely injured, spectacle, on his bed.
A last “farewell” floated over the water, as the boat passed round a point of land. Jack waved his hand, and, a moment later, Fort Desolation vanished from his eyes for ever.
Readers, it is not our purpose here to detail to you the life and adventures of Jack Robinson.
We have recalled and recounted this brief passage in his eventful history, in order to give you some idea of what “outskirters,” and wandering stars of humanity sometimes see, and say, and go through.
Doubtless Jack’s future career would interest you, for his was a nature that could not be easily subdued. Difficulties had the effect of stirring him up to more resolute exertions. Opposition had the effect of drawing him on, instead of keeping him back. “Cold water” warmed him. “Wet blankets,” when thrown on him, were dried and made hot! His energy was untiring, his zeal red hot, and when one effort failed, he began another with as much fervour as if it were the first he had ever made.