'
"'The long boat bides on its strings,' says we,
'An' we bides where the long boat bides;
An' we'll bluff this equatorial sea,
Or swallow its hurricane tides.'
"But the 'Lovely Jane' she didn't go down,
An' she anchored at the Spicy Isles;
An' she sailed again to Wellington Town--
A matter of a thousand miles."
It will be remembered that this was part of the song sung by Galt Roscoe
on the Whi-Whi River, the day we rescued Mrs. Falchion and Justine Caron.
Kilby sang the whole song over to himself until he reached a point
overlooking the valley. Then he stood silent for a time, his glance upon
the town. The walk had sobered him a little. "Phil, old pal," he said at
last, "you ain't got the taste of raw whiskey with you now. When a man
loses a pal he loses a grip on the world equal to all that pal's grip was
worth. . . . I'm drunk, and Phil's down there among the worms--among the
worms! . . . Ah!" he added in disgust, and, dashing his hand across his
eyes, struck off into the woods again, making his way to the summer
hotel, where he had promised to meet Mrs.
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