A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. Why did the beggar hang on down there, when he could have enjoyed all that civilization had to offer? Yes, he would be mighty glad to see McClintock; and the sooner he came the better. From then until four in the afternoon there was nothing to do—the whole island went to sleep. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. “Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed. "Bravo!" shouted Blueskin. There are sentimental and traditional deferences and reverences, I know, between father and son; but that’s just exactly what prevents the development of an easy friendship. My profession has hardened me.
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