I had no wish to blight his faith in the superlative Mr. Shaw, and said nothing.  This evidently pained him, and as we stood leaning on the rail in the shadow of the deck-house, watching the blue water slide by, he continued to sound the praises of his idol.  It seemed that as soon as Miss Browne had beguiled Aunt Jane into financing her scheme—­a feat equivalent to robbing an infant-class scholar of his Sunday-school nickel—­she had cast about for a worthy leader for the forthcoming Harding-Browne expedition.  All the winds of fame were bearing abroad just then the name of a certain young explorer who had lately added another continent or two to the British Empire.  Linked with his were other names, those of his fellow adventurers, which shone only less brightly than that of their chief.  One Dugald Shaw had been among the great man’s most trusted lieutenants, but now, on the organizing of the second expedition, he was left behind in London, only half recovered of a wound received in the Antarctic.  The hook of a block and tackle had caught him, ripped his forehead open from cheek to temple, and for a time threatened the sight of the eye.  Slowly, under the care of the London surgeons, he had recovered, and the eye was saved.  Meanwhile his old companions had taken again the path of glory, and were far on their way back to the ice-fields of the South Pole.  Only Dugald Shaw was left behind.

“And so,” the even voice flowed on, “when I ran on to him in London he was feeling fearfully low, I do assure you.  A chap of his sort naturally hates to think he’s on the shelf.  I had known him since I was a little ’un, when we used to go to Scotland for our holidays, and he would be home from sea and staying with his cousin at the manse.  He’d make us boats and spin all sorts of yarns, and we thought him a bigger man than the admiral of the fleet.

“Well, old Shaw was fancying there was nothing for it but to go back to his place with the P. & O., which seemed a bit flat after what he’d been having, and meant he would never get beyond being the captain of a liner, and not that for a good many years to come, when a cable came from this Miss Higglesby-Brown offering him command of this expedition.  As neither of us had ever heard of Miss Higglesby-Browne, we were both a bit floored for a time.  But Shaw smoked a pipe on it, and then he said, ’Old chap, if they’ll give me my figure, I’m their man.’  And I said, ’Quite so, old chap, and I’ll go along, too.’

“I had to argue quite a bit, but in the end the dear old boy let me come—­after wiring the pater and what not.  And I do assure you, Miss Harding, it strikes me as no end of a lark—­besides expecting it to put old Shaw on his feet and give us hatfuls of money all round.”