"Not more than a week; but it throws us over until the next boat."
"When do de next boat pull out?"
"Two or three weeks."
"Nearer two or three months, perhaps," Lyttleton suggested cheeringly.
Old Reliable's white eyes rolled beseechingly from one man to the other. "White folks, y'all ain't prankin' wid me, is you?" But he saw no banter about the Colonel's gloomy face.
"Den us won't gwine git home for Christmas?"
Colonel Spottiswoode gazed down the river, Khartum way; the homesickness that was in his heart softened his eyes and twitched at his lips. "No, Zack," he answered, "we can't get home for Christmas."
Zack withered, and collapsed like a circus tent when the center pole comes down. Then he burst out petulantly, "I wisht dat feller what seen de gin house ketch fire—I wisht he had a been at home sick in bed, 'stead o' ramblin' roun'. Dat's all I wishes."
Lyttleton and McDonald glanced at each other, but the Colonel whispered:
"Don't pay any attention to Zack; he's just like a disappointed child."
And the old negro did look like a disappointed child as he drifted away, all by himself, away from everybody, crossed the stage plank and climbed to
