Free The Savage Gentleman by Philip Wylie Page B

ducks.

    "Nice ones, eh ?" He held them up.

    Stone did not look at the ducks. He banged irritably on the floor.

    "It’s as quiet around her as the inside of a tomb.”

    McCobb nodded, "You'd get over that gout quicker, I think, if you were careful with the wine."

    "Hell!" Stone seldom used even that initial word of profanity. "Wine! Who wouldn't drink wine? Why the devil doesn't that young whipper-snapper come back here?"

    "He'll be in soon," McCobb said.

    He did not mention his own worries--worries he always felt when Henry traveled alone. He passed behind Stone's back and looked at him almost pityingly. Stone was growing old--and he did not know it. Some day--the mirror would tell him irrefutably.

    McCobb was growing old, too. He was years older than Stone, but life had not told so heavily upon him. He had an oaken constitution and a valiant heart. He was ready for the years.

    A shrill whistle floated up from the bay. Stone jumped onto his feet and scarcely noticed his gout. He hobbled to the door.

    "There he is, damn it!"

    McCobb was at his side. They waited impatiently while Henry made fast his boat and came up the road.

    He swung along with a prodigious stride. He was a full six feet two inches, now.
    He weighed a hundred and ninety pounds. His hair was bronze, his eyes turquoise, his skin mahogany. He was a magnificent man. When he laughed his voice poured from deep and resonant lungs.

    As he strode through the gate they saw that he had a sack on his shoulders and there was motion inside the sack. He took the front steps at a jump.

    "Hello, father. How's the foot?"

    "Better, son. Better."

    "McCobb! Glad to see you."

    He dropped the bag, which squirmed. He took the hands, of the two men.

    "We've missed you," McCobb said.

    Henry laughed again. "I've been all over. Put in at the bay north of Jack's Lake.
    Carried that canoe over to the lake and took myself a paddle."

    He walked into the house, the men beside him.

    "How was it?" Stephen Stone asked the question.

    "Marvelous. Plenty of crocodiles, but they don't bother the boat. Wouldn't like to upset, though." A squeal came from the porch and Henry went out to collect the bag. "I caught a pair of those little peccaries or whatever they are. Hey, Jack!"

    The door to the kitchen flew open.

    "I was coming, I had the lids off the stove and the potatoes in my lap."

    "Here's a pair of pigs. We'll breed them for a steady supply of pork."

    "Mmm-mmm," Jack said. He picked up the bag and looked back. "Glad to see you home, Mr. Henry."

    "Thanks."

    Stephen Stone sipped his wine.

    "Well? What else happened?"

    "Nothing. I worked on that cabin I'm building at the head of the lake. It's going to be a dandy little spot. Then I'm going to study the geology of the island. I have it all doped out--"

    "We had, too, before you were old enough to talk."

    "It's volcanic--and the remnant of a continent--isn't it?"

    Stone nodded. "There used to be a continent that ran from Africa all the way to India. The lemurs were evolved on it. Madagascar is about the only part of it left."

    "That's what I thought. McCobb Mountain is the highest point remaining--and it's part of the rim of a volcano. Jack's Lake is in the crater. And, by the way, there are hot springs up at the head of the lake. They spout out of a row of mud dunes. All colors of mud. Nothing growing. Some are sulphurous and some are salty."

    The Scotchman chuckled. "We ought to take your father's gout there and establish a spa."

    "The devil with my gout. What else, Henry?"

    "Something I want you to see."

    The man with the cane laughed. "I knew it! I knew it when you whistled. Well, sir?"

    "Ruins."

    "Good Lord!"

    "Buried in the jungle. I came on them while I was chasing those pigs. Big ruins.
    Temples, I should think--all made of stone and covered with carving. A language--it looks a little bit like Sanskrit--,but I'm not sure. They must have been very beautiful, once, but they're old as time, now. And