"Clad to meet you. My name is Chalmers. I have read the account."

"Yes, I've got tired of telling it. But it's a singular thing, about
Lockwin's yawl. Next week I go out again. I'll find that boat, you
hear me? I'll find it. I tell the dame that, the other day."

"Mrs. Lockwin?"

"I tell her the other day that I find the yawl. I'll never forget that
boat. Lord! how unsteady she was! I'm sorry for the dame. Women
don't generally feel so bad as she does. It's a great act, this
monument--all her--every bit! These prominent citizens--say, they make
me weary! You've heard about the hospital--the memorial hospital. She
blow hundred and fifty thousand straight cases against that
hospital--the David Lockwin Annex. Oh, it's a cooler. It's all iron
and stone and terra cotta. She's spent a fortune already. She doesn't
cry much--none, I reckon. But no one can bluff her out."

Robert Chalmers is pleased in a thousand ways. He is so glad that he
scarcely notes the facts about the annex. Since he was cast away no
other person has talked freely with him. The open Western manner
rejoices his very blood.

"Lockwin was a pretty fair-sized man, like you. I guess you remind me
of him a trifle. They was a fine pair. I never was stuck on him, for
I was in politics against him; but somehow or other I've hearn the dame
praise him so much, and he die in the yawl, and so on, until I feel
like a brother to him. Just cut across with me," as they leave the
car. "Want a seat with the reporters? Oh, that will be all right out
here. Say you're from the outside--where is it? Eau Claire? Say Eau