But I--I ain't
hed my chance--yit!"
He swung around and stumbled blindly up the steps and groped his way
upstairs.
Caleb stood there for a long time, motionless, and the one thought
uppermost in his mind was that Steve, like Allison, was scarcely
woman-wise. A low muttering behind him finally recalled him to
himself, and when he turned he saw that here were thunder-heads piling
up in the southwest. One long finger of black cloud was already poked
up over the horizon. He remembered the boy's prophecy of the breakfast
table; remembered what McLean had said in scorn of trivial things, and
he went upstairs to urge Steve to remain and join them in their fishing
trip on Monday--the trip north which Allison had proposed, if it rained.
He found the boy stretched, face down, upon the bed, a rigid figure of
misery. Out of his deep desire to heal his hurt he even promised him
the use of a most precious rod; he promised to teach him to cast a fly,
come Monday!
And when the boy finally nodded his head in mute assent, he left him
alone for a while--alone with his bruised spirit that was bigger than
the spare little body which housed it.
CHAPTER IV
I'LL TELL HER YOU'RE A BAPTIST
It rained that night. The storm which hung for hours, a threatening
bank of black in the south, finally tore north at sundown, to break
with vicious fury.
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