O
God! it can't be true! it CAN'T be true!"
He was sobbing now, his face hidden by his wrist
and the cuff of his coat, the big tears striking his pea-
jacket and bounding off. It had been many years
since these springs had yielded a drop--not when
anybody could see. They must have scalded his
rugged cheeks as molten metal scalds a sand-pit.
Tod stood amazed. The outburst was a revelation.
He had known the captain ever since he could remember,
but always as an austere, exacting man.
"I'm glad, captain," Tod said simply; "the
men'll be glad, too. Shall I tell 'em?"
The captain raised his head.
"Wait a minute, son." His heart was very tender,
all discipline was forgotten now; and then he
had known Tod from his boyhood. "I'll go myself
and tell 'em," and he drew his hand across his eyes
as if to dry them. "Yes, tell 'em. Come, I'll go
'long with ye and tell 'em myself. I ain't 'shamed
of the way I feel, and the men won't be 'shamed
neither."
The sitting-room was full when he entered. Dinner
had been announced by Morgan, who was cook
that week, by shouting the glad tidings from his
place beside the stove, and the men were sitting about
in their chairs.
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