"I've been to the Kobuk," Folsom told him.
"Kobuk? I hear she's a bum."
"'Bum' is right. Maybe she'll do to dredge some day."
"Too bad you missed the Oregon; there she goes now." The man pointed seaward.
"Too bad?"
"Sure! Don't you know? Why, Miz Folsom went out on her!"
Folsom halted; after a momentary pause he repeated, vaguely, "Went out?"
"Exactly. Didn't you know she was going?"
"Oh yes—of course! The Oregon!" Folsom stared at the fading plume of black smoke; there was a curious brightness in his eyes, his face was white beneath its tan. "She sailed on the Oregon and I missed her, by an hour! That broken shaft—" He began to laugh, and turning his back upon the sea he plodded heavily through the sand toward the main street.
Folsom found no word from his wife, his house was empty; but he learned that "the man" had also gone to the States, and he drew his own conclusions. Since Lois had ordered her life as she saw fit there was nothing to do but wait and endure—doubtless the divorce would come in time. Nevertheless, he could not think of that broken shaft without raving.