extra money."

The doctor had entered the room fully determined to tell the
patient the major part of Ruth's story, to inspire him with proper
respect and gratitude. Instead, he could not get beyond these minor
details--why she wore the dress, whence she had come, and whither
she was bound. The idea of this sudden reluctance was elusive; the
fact was evident but not the reason for it.

"How would you like a job on a copra plantation?" he asked,
irrelevantly to the thoughts crowding one another in his mind. "Out
of the beaten track, with a real man for an employer? How would
that strike you?"

Interest shot into Spurlock's eyes; it spread to his wan face. Out
of the beaten track! He must not appear too eager. "I'll need a job
when I quit this bed. I'm not particular what or where."

"That kind of talk makes you sound like a white man. Of course, I
can't promise you the job definitely. But I've an old friend on the
way here, and he knows the game down there. If he hasn't a job for
you, he'll know someone who has. Managers and accountants are
always shifting about, so he tells me. It's mighty lonesome down
there for a man bred to cities."

"Find me the job. I don't care how lonesome it is."

Out of the beaten track! thought Spurlock. A forgotten island
beyond the ship lanes, where that grim Hand would falter and move
blindly in its search for him! From what he had read, there
wouldn't be much to do; and in the idle hours he could write.

"Thanks," he said, holding out a thin white hand. "I'll be very
glad to take that kind of a job, if you can find it."

"Well, that's fine. Got you interested in something, then? Would
you like a peg?"

"No. I hated the stuff. There was a pleasant numbness in the
bottle; that's why I went to it."

"Thought so. But I had to know for sure. Down there, whisky raises
the very devil with white men. Don't build your hopes too high; but
I will do what I can. While there's life there's hope. Buck up."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Understand what?"

"You or this girl. There are, then, in this sorry world, people who
can be disinterestedly kind!"

The doctor laughed, gave Spurlock's shoulder a pat, and left the
room. Outside the door he turned and stared at the panels. Why
hadn't he gone on with the girl's story? What instinct had stuffed
it back into his throat? Why the inexplicable impulse to hurry this
rather pathetic derelict on his way?

CHAPTER XV

Previous