"Can I see you for a coupla minutes, A. A.?" he inquired, following
the other to the door.
"Certainly, Buck,--as many minutes as you like."
Buck discovered Randolph Fitts and Michael Malone seated before
the fire. He drew back.
"I'd like to see you outside," he said nervously.
"Well, what is it?" asked Percival, stepping outside and closing
the door.
Buck led him around the corner of the hut.
"It ain't so windy here," he explained. "Awful weather, ain't it?"
"What's troubling you, Buck? Put on your cap, you idiot. You'll
take cold."
"Plumb nervousness," said Buck. "Same as if I was pulling up to the
start with fifty thousand on the nag. I want to ask your advice,
A. A. Just a little private matter. Oh, nothing serious. Nothing
like that, you know. I just thought maybe you'd--Gosh, I never saw
it snow like this up home, did you? Funny, too, when you think how
tropical we ought to be. There was a bad blizzard a coupla years
ago in Buenos Aires, but--"
"Come to the point, Buck. What's up?"
Buck lowered his voice. "Well, you see it's this way. I'm thinking
of getting married. Tomorrow, if possible. Don't laugh! I don't
see anything to laugh at in--"
"I beg your pardon, old chap.
Pages:
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390