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Updated: May 18, 2025
The truth is, I am not doing well. I have no money to speak of, and to-day I lost the position on which I depended." "You don't tell me!" Littimer's newly roused charitable impulses came to the fore. "Why, now you begin to be really interesting, Mr. Crombie." "Thanks," said Crombie; "I'm not ambitious to interest people in that way, I told you only because I thought it fair."
He had delayed his return as long as possible, not from any fear for himself, but for the sake of giving color to his final protestations to Doc Crombie, when they parted company at the Little Bluff River.
My dame advised strong waters; 'But, Dame Crombie, says I, 'would ye corrupt their youth? And in my zeal for their good, doctor, I was delighting them, just at your entrance, with a pious little melody of my own against the sin of drunkenness." "Truly, I remember something of the kind," observed Dr. Melmoth. "And, as I think, it seemed to meet with good acceptance."
"Anything important? I'm busy." "Yes, sir; quite important to me. Possibly it may be to you." "Fire away, then; but cut it short." Mr. Blatchford's dense, well-combed gray side-whiskers were directed toward the young man in an aggressive way, as if they had been some sort of weapon. Crombie nonchalantly settled himself in a chair, at ease. "I am tired of being a clerk," he said.
Under this course of education, Hugh Crombie grew to youth and manhood; and the lovers of good words could only say in his favor, that he was a greater enemy to himself than to any one else, and that, if he should reform, few would have a better chance of prosperity than he.
She found herself vaguely wondering if they were all out. Was Doc Crombie out? No, she knew he wasn't. That was something. That was the man she most dreaded. To her heated imagination he seemed inevitable. He could not fail in his self-imposed mission. He would hunt his man down. He would never pause until the wretched victim was swinging at the rope end. She shuddered.
And yet he believed Jim could have saved himself. There was not a man in that room, from Doc Crombie downward, but knew that Jim was holding back something. What was it? And why did he not speak? Peter had asked him while the farce of a trial was at its height. He had begged and implored him to speak out, but the answer he received was the same as had been given to the doctor.
He has been Chemist of the Department of Indian Affairs, Professor of Chemistry in the New York School of Social Economics, President of the New York Pharmaceutical Association, etc., and has written largely on philosophy and science. Alexander Crombie Humphreys, born in Edinburgh in 1851, became President of Stevens Institute of Technology, Hoboken, in 1902.
For Smallbones, the situation was saved by the advent of Doc Crombie. That redoubtable man pushed his way in through the swing doors and promptly hailed him back. "Hold on, Smallbones," he cried, "I've a word for you fellows. How many are there here?" He glanced round the bar swiftly, and finally his eyes rested on Jim Thorpe. "Ah!" He paused, while he mentally estimated the prevailing feeling.
He had his wish. As the men topped the ridge he was on one knee studying a clearer imprint than usual. Doc Crombie and Smallbones, riding at the head of a party of five men, saw him, and the latter shouted his joy. "Gee! we've got him! Say " He broke off, staring hard at the kneeling figure. The outline was familiar. Suddenly Jim stood up, and the little man instantly recognized him.
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