Chatfield had evidently taken a bird's eye view of the
situation from the vantage point of the slope and had come to the
conclusion that the higher part of the island was the most likely point
from which to attract attention. He came steadily forward, a big,
lumbering figure in the light mist, and Vickers as he went on to meet him
eyed him with a lively curiosity, wondering what secrets lay carefully
locked up in the man's heart and what happened on the _Pike_ that made
its captain or its owner bundle Chatfield out of it like a box of bad
goods for which there was no more use. And as he speculated, they met,
and Vickers saw at once that the old fellow's mood had changed during the
night. An atmosphere of smug oiliness sat upon Chatfield in the freshness
of the morning, and he greeted the young solicitor in tones which were
suggestive of a chastened spirit.
"Morning, Mr. Vickers," he said. "A sweetly pretty spot it is that we
find ourselves in, sir--nevertheless, one's affairs sometimes makes us
long to quit the side of beauty, however much we would tarry by it! In
plain words, Mr. Vickers, I want to get out o' this. And I've been
looking round, and my opinion is that the best thing we can do is to
start as big a fire as we can find stuff for on yon bluff and keep
a-feeding on it. In the meantime, while you're considering of that, I'll
burn something of my own--I'm weary.
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