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Updated: May 19, 2025
When, at last, he turned into Michigan Avenue and went toward his apartment, the late moon was just mounting the sky and a clock in one of the sleeping houses was striking three. One evening, six weeks after the talk in the gathering darkness in Jackson Park, Sue Rainey and Sam McPherson sat on the deck of a Lake Michigan steamer watching the lights of Chicago blink out in the distance.
Rainey darted forward, but Lund was quicker and swooped her up in his arms as if she had been a feather, took her to the table, set her in a chair, dabbled a napkin in some water and applied it to her brows. "Chafe her wrists," he ordered Rainey. "Undo that top button of her blouse. That's enough; she ain't got on corsets. She'll come through. Plumb worn out. That's all."
The reporter moved slowly toward the door. "I am satisfied," he said, "that the man doesn't admit any one without Dr. Rainey's permission." Indignantly, as though to intercept him, Judge Gaylor stepped forward. Both Rainey and himself spoke together. "What do you mean by that?" Rainey demanded. "Are you trying to be insolent, sir?" cried the Judge. Lee smiled pleasantly.
Lund came up after a while, and Rainey told him of the fate of Carlsen's body. "I figgered they'd do about that," commented Lund. "They savvied he'd aimed to make suckers out of 'em, an' they dumped him. But they ain't on our side, by a long sight. Not that I give a damn. If they want to sulk, let 'em sulk.
"Oh, the picture's been on my desk each time you've been here," he answered dubiously. "Rainey could have told you." "As a matter of fact, I didn't," said Rainey. Hallowell's eyes lightened with interest. "Didn't you?" he asked. He turned to Vera. "If you can read my mind," he challenged "you," he added, pointing at Vance, "keep out of this now tell me of what I am thinking."
One of the two hunters, lamed with a kick on the knee, howling with the pain, clinched savagely and bore the seaman down, battering his head against a knob of rock. The other friendly hunter had bashed and buffeted his opponent to submission. But Rainey was in hard case. A seaman, half Mexican, flew at him like a wildcat.
As Hallowell, supported by Rainey, sank into the invalid's chair in the centre of the semicircle, Gaylor made his final appeal. "Stephen," he begged, "are you sure you're feeling strong enough? Won't some other night " The old man interrupted him querulously. "No, now! I want it over," he commanded. "Who knows," he complained, "how soon it may be before "
It would seem that the natives are appealing to us for aid." Rainey at once sprang to his feet, exclaiming: "Count me one to go hunt the beast, whatever it is." At once the others were on their feet shouting their eagerness for the hunt. The Doctor chose a gob named Thompson to accompany Rainey on his "tiger hunt," or whatever it might prove to be.
By the size of the half-tone, Sam, Prince, and Morrison had tried to reconcile Colonel Tom to Edwards' name in the title of the new company and to Edwards' coming election as president. The story also played up the past glories of the Rainey Company and its directing genius, Colonel Tom. One phrase, written by Morrison, brought a smile to Sam's lips.
On the eleventh day out, Rainey went below in the middle of the afternoon for his sea-boots. The gale had suddenly strengthened and, under reefs, the Karluk heeled far over until the hissing seas flooded the scuppers and creamed even with the lee rail. In the main cabin he found Simms seated in a chair with his daughter leaning over him, speaking to her in a harsh, complaining voice.
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