He went off afterwards, and blubbed like a baby.
But in the evening I found him squatting outside, quite naked, and as
clean as a whistle. To quote the newspapers, I was profoundly touched.
But I didn't show it, you bet. I whacked him on the shoulder, and told
him to be a man."
He broke off to laugh at the reminiscence; and Montague Herne gravely
set down his glass, and turned his chair with its back to the sunlight.
"Do you know you've been here eighteen months?" he said.
Duncannon nodded.
"I feel as if I'd been born here. Why?"
"Most fellows," proceeded Herne, ignoring the question, "would have been
clamouring for leave long ago. Why, you have scarcely heard your own
language all this time."
"I have though," said Duncannon quickly. "That's another thing I've
taught 'em. They picked it up wonderfully quickly. There isn't one of
'em who doesn't know a few sentences now."
"You seem to have found your vocation in teaching these heathen to sit
up and beg," observed Herne, with a dry smile.
Duncannon turned dusky red under his tan.
"Perhaps I have," he said, with a certain, doggedness.
Herne, with his back to the light, was watching him.
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