“C. Q.”; or, In the Wireless House
path and the ship and made black the pit underneath their feet. Only the surging rush of the waters—throuh which the tinkling of the mandolin came faintly. Only the deserted moon-swept deck. Only the vast, pale star-specked sky. God and the man!
As in his sleep, drawn by some hypnotic power, Cloud slowly removed his ulster and hung it mechanically on the iron rail. Then he laid his felt hat beneath it on the deck. A moment more, and he ducked under and stood upright on the slippery, heaving stern. There was no doubt as to his purpose. He looked down into the abyss, steadied himself, and took a step backward, preparatory to the plunge.
Micky saw the move, and rushed swiftly from his hiding-place. Another instant and he threw himself upon the man from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. On a wet convex surface ten feet square, that heaved and lifted the two swayed and struggled, the one in his resolve to take life, the other in his determination to save it; and all that Micky, in his hysterical excitement, could muster intelligence to utter was a fatuous shriek of:
“O you bally ass! You bally ass!”
77
