“Oh, yes. That chap blew in half an hour ago; but he’s done up. He’ll not leave port very soon, if ever.”
Chilled with apprehension, Sydney, following the man’s directions, set out once more to find Max.
CHAPTER VIII
Sydney found Max lying in a lumberman’s bunk, partially restored and able to give greeting with both hand and word.
“The jig’s up, you runaway; you’ve got to come home with me.” Sydney was still panting from his long run.
Max shook his head wearily, but not before his eyes had flashed tell-tale joy at the word “home.” “I can’t, Sydney. I must not bring shame to my friends, Mrs. Schmitz, you—”
“Shame, nothing! We’re only ashamed that you ran away.”