act is, I--I never got really reconciled to it. I kept bein'
fearful all the time that that streak, his father's streak, would break
out in him. It never did, except of course in his poetry and that sort
of foolishness, but I was always scared 'twould, you see. And now--now
that this has happened I--I kind of fret for fear that I may have let my
notions get ahead of my fair play. You think I did give the boy a square
deal, Labe?"

"Sure thing, Cap'n."

"I'm glad of that. . . . And--and you cal'late he wasn't--wasn't too
prejudiced against me? I don't mean along at first, I mean this last
year or two."

Laban hesitated. He wished his answer to be not an overstatement, but
the exact truth.

"I think," he said, with emphasis, "that Al was comin' to understand
you better every day he lived, Cap'n. Yes, and to think more and more
of you, too. He was gettin' older, for one thing--older, more of a
man--yes, yes."

Captain Zelotes smiled sadly. "He was more boy than man by a good deal
yet," he observed. "Well, Labe, he's gone and I'm just beginnin' to
realize how much of life for me has gone along with him. He'd been doin'
better here in the office for the last two or three years, seemed to be
catchin' on to business better. Didn't you think so, Labe?"

"Sartin. Yes indeed. Fust-rate, fust-rate."

"No, not first-rate. He was a long ways from a business man yet, but I
did think he was doin' a lot better. I could begin to see him pilotin'
this craft after I was called ashore. Now he's gone and . . . well, I
don't see much use in my fightin' to keep it afloat. I'm gettin' along
in years--and what's the use?"

It was the first time Laban had ever heard Captain Zelotes refer to
himself as an old man. It shocked him into sharp expostulation.

"Nonsense!" he exclaimed. "You ain't old enough for the scrap heap by a
big stretch. And besides, he made his fight, didn't he? He didn't quit,
Al didn't, and he wouldn't want us to. No sir-ee, he wouldn't! No, sir,
no! . . . I--I hope you'll excuse me, Cap'n Lote. I--declare it must
seem to you as if I was talkin' pretty fresh. I swan I'm sorry. I am so
. . . sorry; yes, yes, I be."

The captain was not offended. He waved the apologies aside.

"So you think it's worth while my fightin' it out, do you, Labe?" he
asked, reflectively.

"I--I think it's what you ought to do anyhow, whether it's worth
while or not. The whole world's fightin'. Uncle Sam's fightin'. Al was
fightin'. Yo