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A very touching incident happened during the fight. Captain McClintock was struck in the left leg, two Mauser bullets entering his leg just above the ankle. A private who had been sick for some days, seeing Captain McClintock lying on the field, crawled up to him, and lying beside the captain between the latter and the firing line, said: "Never mind, Captain, I am between you and the firing line.
The Selden kid has done told Uncle McClintock about Stan being in jail. She told him Stan hadn't written to Cousin Oscar about no jail, and that I wasn't to tell him either. Now goes Cousin Oscar on a beeline to tell Uncle how dreadful Stanley has went and disgraced the family; and Uncle will want to know how he heard of it.
"Thank you, sir," said Spurlock, holding out his hand. McClintock, without comment, accepted the hand. He rather liked the "sir"; it signified both gratefulness and the chastened spirit. "And I want to thank you, too," supplemented Ruth. "Tut, tut! Don't exaggerate. I needed a man the worst kind of way a man I could keep for at least six months. What do you think of the old tub?"
She hated to leave; for this hour would be the most interesting. Both Spurlock and McClintock stood by their chairs until she was gone. "Yes, sir," said McClintock, as he sat down; "that's South Sea stuff, that yarn of yours. I like the way you shared it. I have read that authors are very selfish and self-centred."
McClintock had demanded, irascibly. He had particular reasons for wanting to keep Spurlock away from the jetty. "I haven't any answer for that; but I'm going back after her. She wanted to come, and I wouldn't let her." "Run along, then." "To me, you dirty blackguard!" cried Spurlock, flinging aside his helmet.
McClintock saw indeed two things: that the boy had no conceit and that this odd girl would always be giving. "Well, it's a good story." He offered cigars, and Ruth got up. She always left the table when they began to smoke. Spurlock had not coached her on this line of conduct. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco.
Then into this void poured a flaming anger, a blind and unreasoning anger. He took the first step toward the stairs, and met the restraining hand of McClintock. "Steady, old top! What are you going to do?" "The damned scoundrel!" "I told you that child was opal." "She? My God, the pity of it! She knows nothing of life. She no more realizes what she has done than a child of eight.
There was a fourth story; but he never told either Ruth or McClintock about this. He called it "The Man Who Could Not Go Home." Himself. He did not write this with lead but with his heart's blood. By the middle of July he was in full health. In the old days he had been something of an athlete a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis.
John Rae to find out from the Esquimaux in 1854 that the ships had been crushed in the ice, and that Franklin and his companions had died of fatigue and starvation. The final relics of the Franklin Expedition were discovered by McClintock and a party of volunteers.
Mary Selden, quiet and pale, was at the old man's left hand. Pete Johnson, with one puffed and discolored eye, a bruised cheek, and with skinned and bandaged knuckles, but cheerful and sunny of demeanor, sat facing McClintock. Boland and Sedgwick sat a little to one side. They had tried to withdraw, on the plea of intrusion; but McClintock had overruled them and bade them stay.
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