THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
"Not this morning. Got a game leg."
"Why, I noticed that you limped!" said the girl.
Immediately William's spirits went up ten points. "Stumbled down the companionway last night," he explained.
"Hunt up the ship's doctor," suggested Camden. "He'll give you a dash of liniment. Wrench?"
"Kind of. Where do you find this sawbones?"
"Next to the barber's shop. Any more?" asked Camden, turning.
"No, thanks," she said. "I'm snoozy, and I'll run around to my chair while you show Mr. Grogan where the doctor is."
"Come along, Grogan; we're dismissed."
They found the ship's doctor busily engaged. His patient was William Clark Russell, half-morocco.
"Game leg, doctor," announced Camden. "This young man wants your attention for a moment."
"What's the trouble?"
"Wrench, I guess," said William, diffidently. He was a poor liar.
"Let me have a look at it."
William rolled up his trousers leg protestingly.
"Why, man alive, that's no wrench! It's black and blue underneath. Something struck you there."
"Well, what do you know about that?" cried William. "All I know is I went down, and when I got up I limped. I was wandering around the deck late, and there was a fair wind."
80
