"No," said his father.

"Well, I'm glad to have seen you," said his son. "Good-bye."

"Good-bye," said the captain.

His son nodded and, turning on his heel, walked back towards the town.
Despite his forlorn appearance his step was jaunty and he carried his
head high. The captain watched him until he was hidden by a bend in the
road, and then, ashamed of himself for displaying so much emotion, turned
his own steps in the direction of home.

"Well, he didn't whine," he said, slowly. "He's got a bit of pride
left."

Meantime the prodigal had reached the town again, and stood ruefully
considering his position.

He looked up the street, and then, the well-known shop of Mr. Kybird
catching his eye, walked over and inspected the contents of the window.
Sheath-knives, belts, tobacco-boxes, and watches were displayed
alluringly behind the glass, sheltered from the sun by a row of cheap
clothing dangling from short poles over the shop front. All the goods
were marked in plain figures in reduced circumstances, Mr. Kybird giving
a soaring imagination play in the first marking, and a good business
faculty in the second.

At these valuables Jack Nugent, with a view of obtaining some idea of
prices, gazed for some time. Then passing between two suits of oilskins