The work went on with unabated vigor all that night, and all the next day, and gave promise of continuing even three or four days longer, for the "trying out" of the oil from a big whale, as this one was, is no light task.
On the evening of the second day a well-dressed stranger appeared at the scene of operations, inquiring for Mr. Thatcher; and upon finding the grim old veteran—who had as yet taken no rest since starting in pursuit of the whale—introduced himself as a friend of Silas's, from Boston, and expressed an earnest desire to meet the young man.
"Why, he is in Boston," said Uncle Thatcher.
"He was, but has left there, and I expected to meet him here," replied the stranger.
"Here?"
"Yes. I was out of town when he went away, rather suddenly, and so did not see him, unfortunately. But he left word for me that he was going to New York to look for a better job, and would pay a visit to his father's on the way."
"So you knew him well in Boston, did you?"
"Yes; oh, yes; knew him very well. He was quite a friend of mine."
"He was doing well, I suppose? Working and keeping steady?"
The father's voice faltered slightly; he hesitated a little, and picked up a bit of crackling, which he munched as a cover to his anxiety, while he looked wistfully at the stranger.