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Updated: May 1, 2025
A moment later he entered the outer office. Albert and Keeler were at their desks. Captain Zelotes approached the little bookkeeper. "Labe," he queried, "there isn't anything particular you want me to talk about just now, is there?" Lahan looked up in surprise from his figuring. "Why why, no, Cap'n Lote, don't know's there is," he said. "Don't know's there is, not now, no, no, no."
But he wasn't; he was on that island lost in the middle of all creation. What's to hinder Albert bein' took prisoner by those Germans? They came back to that cottage place after Albert was left there, the cap'n says so in that letter Cap'n Lote just read. What's to hinder their carryin' Al off with 'em? Eh? What's to hinder?" "Why why, nothin', I suppose, in one way. But nine chances out of ten "
"How do, Jane?" she said, in an even voice, stirred by a pleasant, reedy thrill. "How do, Lote?" Lothrop pushed forward a chair, looking at her with an air of great kindliness. There was some slight resemblance between them, but the masculine type seemed entirely lacking in that bright alertness so apparent in her. Mrs. Wilson nodded, and went back to her drawing-in.
Captain Lote was the first to speak after ratification of the contract. "There, now I cal'late I'll go aloft and turn in," he observed. Then he added, with a little hesitation, "Say, Al, maybe we'd better not trouble your grandma about all this fool business the row this afternoon and all.
You think you've found out where I stand and now you'll size him up. Honest, Mr. Fosdick, I . . . Humph! Mind if I tell you a little story? 'Twon't take long. When I was a little shaver, me and my granddad, the first Cap'n Lote Snow there's been two since were great chums. When he was home from sea he and I stuck together like hot pitch and oakum.
You've got too much of your good-for-nothin " Captain Lote pulled up short, cleared his throat, and went on: "You've got too much 'poet' in you," he declared, "that's what's the matter." Albert leaned forward. "That wasn't what you were going to say," he said quickly. "You were going to say that I had too much of my father in me." It was the captain's turn to redden. "Eh?" he stammered.
And to hail him as "Bub" was, although Jim Young did not know it, the one way least likely to bring him back. "Bub!" shouted Jim again. Receiving no reply he added what he had intended saying. "If I run afoul of Cap'n Lote anywheres on the road," he called, "I'll tell him you're here a-waitin'. So long, Bub. Git dap, Chain Lightnin'."
"I I was just coming down to see you. Were you going to bed?" Captain Lote shook his head. "No-o," he said, slowly, "not exactly." "Do you mind waiting a minute? I have a few things I have something to say to you and and I guess I shall sleep better if I say it to-night. I I won't keep you long." The captain regarded him intently for an instant, then he turned and led the way to the dining-room.
Neither Captain Lote nor his wife had read anything of the kind in the papers. The captain had been very busy of late and had read little except political news, and Mrs. Snow never read of murders and accidents, their details at least. She looked up from the letter, which her husband had hastened home from the office to bring her, with a startled face. "Oh, Zelotes," she cried, "he's dead!"
It won't be very long, Zelotes," she added. "We're both gettin' old." Captain Lote made no reply. He was standing by the window of the sitting-room looking out into the wet backyard across which the wind-driven rain was beating in stormy gusts. "We must be brave, Zelotes," whispered Olive, tremulously. "He'd want us to be and we MUST be." He put his arm about her in a sudden heat of admiration.
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