’ Kimble’s eyes widened. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. . The old woman told him she had no such article to dispose of, but recommended him to a neighbouring blacksmith. It was only when Study Hall was over that Lucy turned her head. He loaded the launch with a thousand pounds—all she could carry—and started home immediately after sundown; but even then he lost from a hundred to a hundred and fifty pounds before he had the stuff cached in McClintock's bamboo-covered sawdust pit. But ——” A look checked him.
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