iffled, then glared belligerently at the others.

Cochran whispered to Lindsey: "Just what is there about--about that
boy? Is it because he's so pale?"

"Yes, that's it--you poor fish! But it's about time you quit pinching
my arm--it's getting numb!"

Flushing slightly in realization of his lapse, Terry had sprung
astraddle the corner of the billiard table, where, absurdly solemn, he
declaimed tragically, combing the classics for sepulchral passages,
plunging the intent listeners into deepest melancholy but concluding
with a droll extemporization that swept them from verge of tears to
convulsed mirth.

Lindsey, flinging a laughter-helpless arm across a call-bell, rang an
inadvertent summons to the steward that cost him the price of the
drinks and gave Terry a breathing spell. He sat astride the billiard
table under the acetylene lights, vainly trying to smooth down his
scalplock, his eyes dancing in eager enjoyment of the hour and of the
friends who crowded around him in affectionate amazement, laughing and
shouting at each other and at him.

Cochran's voice rose above the clamor of the room in a raucous whoop.
They all turned toward where he stood near the bulletin board reading
a message he had just torn down.

He waved the sheet joyously: "I saw the steward tacking it up a minute
ago--it just arrived--from Casey. He couldn't wait to tell us--the
long awaited day has come for Casey!"

He bent with laughter, then straightened and sobered to read it aloud.

"Casey talks like the Congressional Record but he sure minces his
written words. Listen.

Davao Club, Davao.

Horray! American mare had a filly colt last night. Also
sixteen pigs by Berkshire boar.

CASEY.

A roar of merriment greeted the phraseology in which Casey had
hurriedly couched the double event of his day of days. The terse--too
terse--message passed from hand to hand till it reached Terry. He
studied it, his head cocked to one side like a puppy's and with
something of a puppy's quizzical expression. A moment and he slid
slowly from the billiard table and crossed to the corner of the room
where a typewriter had been placed for the convenience of club
members.

They watched him, glancing uncertainly at each other, as he inserted a
sheet of paper, spelled out a few hesitating words, then jerked it
out, crumpled it in his hand. Slipping in a fresh sheet he started
slowly, pausing