And the Cap, he points first
one way, then the other, endin' by diggin' up a chart and gazin' at it
vague.
"Huh!" grunts Old Hickory.
I could hear that clear back by the bridge, where Vee and I were
leanin' over the rail watchin' for flyin'-fish. Also we are within
ear-stretchin' distance when he makes his report to Auntie.
"Somewhere around here--he thinks," says Mr. Ellins. "Says he needs a
day or so to get his bearings. Meanwhile he wants us to go fishing."
"Fish!" sniffs Auntie. "I shall certainly do nothing of the sort. I
want to tell you right here, too, that I am not going to humor that
absurd person any more."
"Isn't he just as wise as he was when you lured him away from the hotel
where I'd put him?" asks Old Hickory sarcastic.
"I supposed you had a little sense then yourself, Matthew Ellins,"
Auntie raps back at him.
"You flatter me," says Old Hickory, bowin' stiff and marchin' off huffy.
After which they both registers glum, injured looks. A close-up of
either of 'em would have soured a can of condensed milk, especially
whenever Captain Rupert Killam took a chance on showin' himself. And
Rupert, he was wise to the situation. He couldn't help being. He
takes it hard, too. All his chesty, important airs are gone.
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