hardly remind you of a placid pool
at morn, or the end of a perfect day. Not as a rule. Sort of a cross
between a March blizzard and a July thunderstorm would hit it nearer.

Honest, sometimes when he has started on a rampage through the general
offices here, I've seen the bond-room clerks grip their desks like they
expected to be blown through the windows; and the sickly green tinge on
Piddie's face when he comes out from a hectic ten minutes with the big
boss is as good a trouble barometer as you'd want.

Even on average days, when Corrugated affairs seem to be runnin'
smooth, Mr. Ellins is apt to come down with a lumbago grouch or develop
shootin' pains in the knee, and then anybody who ducks gettin' in range
of that snappy sarcasm of his is lucky.

Not that he always means it, or that he's generally disliked. As soon
as it's safe, the bond clerks grin at each other and the lady typists
go to yankin' away on their gum placid. They know nobody's ever had
the can tied to 'em from this joint without good cause. Also, they've
come to expect about so many growls a day from Old Hickory.

But say, they don't know what to make of him this last week or so.
Twice he's been late, three days runnin' he's quit early, and in all
that time he ain't raised a blessed howl about anything. Not only
that, but the other mornin' he blew in wearin' a carnation in his
button-hole and hummin' a tune. I saw Piddie watch him with his eyes
bugged, and the battery of typists let out a sort of chorus gasp as the
door of his private office shut behind him.

Finally Mr. Robert beckons me over and remarks confidential:

"Torchy, have you--er--noticed anything peculiar about the governor
these last few days?"

"Could I help it?" says I.

"Ah!" says he. "Somewhat rare, such moods. I've been wondering. He
has hinted to me that he might start on some sort of a cruise soon."

"Has he?" says I, tryin' to look surprised.

"You don't suppose, Torchy," Mr. Robert goes on, "that the governor
really means to go after that buried treasure?"

"Mr. Robert," says I, "I ain't sayin' a word."

"By Jove!" says he. "So that's the way it stands? Well, you haven't
told me anything. And, do you know, I am beginning to think it would
be a fine thing for him to do. It would get his mind off business,
give him an outing, and--er--simplify our negotiations in that
Ishpeming deal. I think I shall encourage his going."

"If you want to make it do