me--a feat equivalent to robbing an infant-class
scholar of his Sunday-school nickel--she had cast about for a
worthy leader for the forthcoming Harding-Browne expedition. All
the winds of fame were bearing abroad just then the name of a
certain young explorer who had lately added another continent or
two to the British Empire. Linked with his were other names, those
of his fellow adventurers, which shone only less brightly than that
of their chief. One Dugald Shaw had been among the great man's
most trusted lieutenants, but now, on the organizing of the second
expedition, he was left behind in London, only half recovered of a
wound received in the Antarctic. The hook of a block and tackle
had caught him, ripped his forehead open from cheek to temple, and
for a time threatened the sight of the eye. Slowly, under the care
of the London surgeons, he had recovered, and the eye was saved.
Meanwhile his old companions had taken again the path of glory, and
were far on their way back to the ice-fields of the South Pole.
Only Dugald Shaw was left behind.

"And so," the even voice flowed on, "when I ran on to him in London
he was feeling fearfully low, I do assure you. A chap of his sort
naturally hates to think he's on the shelf. I had known him since
I was a little 'un, when we used to go to Scotland for our
holidays, and he would be home from sea and staying with his cousin
at the manse. He'd make us boats and spin all sorts of yarns, and
we thought him a bigger man than the admiral of the fleet.

"Well, old Shaw was fancying there was nothing for it but to go
back to his place with the P. & O., which seemed a bit flat after
what he'd been having, and meant he would never get beyond being
the captain of a liner, and not that for a good many years to come,
when a cable came from this Miss Higglesby-Brown offering him
command of this expedition. As neither of us had ever heard of
Miss Higglesby-Browne, we were both a bit floored for a time. But
Shaw smoked a pipe on it, and then he said, 'Old chap, if they'll
give me my figure, I'm their man.' And I said, 'Quite so, old
chap, and I'll go along, too.'

"I had to argue quite a bit, but in the end the dear old boy let me
come--after wiring the pater and what not. And I do assure you,
Miss Harding, it strikes me as no end of a lark--besides expecting
it to put old Shaw on his feet and give us hatfuls of money all
round."

Well, it was a plausible story, and I had