Every Man for Himself | Page 2

he is inclined to solitary communion while taking the
measure of his self-dissatisfaction.
It was indeed the end of a very imperfect day for Mr. Philip Kendrick.
As he descended the stairs to the Canoe Club his thoughts were
troubled. At that hour there was nobody about, but he let himself in
with a special key which he carried for such contingencies. He found
the suitcase undisturbed where he had left it and soon had his canoe in

the water. A moment later he was driving into the thick wall of fog
with strong, practiced strokes, heading straight across the bay for
Centre Island.
The fog gave him little concern. This land-locked Toronto Bay he knew
like a well-marked passage in a favorite book and at two o'clock in the
morning it was not necessary to nose along cautiously, listening for the
approach of water craft. Away to the right the lights of the amusement
park on Hanlan's Point had gone out long ago, before the fog settled
down like a wet blanket. The ferries had stopped running for the night.
Even the "belt line boat," Lulu,--last hope of bibulous or belated
Islanders--was back in her slip, funnel cold, lights out. The whole
deserted waterfront lay wrapped in the shroud of the fog, lulled by the
lap of water against pilings and the faint creakings of small craft at their
moorings.
As the solitary canoe poked out for the open bay these minor sounds
fell behind and were replaced by the steady purl of water under the bow.
It filled with pleasing monotone the interludes between the fussing of
the yard-engine back on the railway trackage and the blatancy of the
foghorn at the Eastern Gap, every half minute bawling its warning into
the open lake beyond.
There was nobody over at the big summer residence on Centre Island
except Mrs. Parlby, the housekeeper, and her husband who acted as
gardener. The place belonged to Kendrick's uncle, the Honorable
Milton Waring, and it was usual for them to open the big house about
the end of May. This year, however, his aunt and uncle had chosen to
spend the summer at Sparrow Lake and for the past week they had been
up at a rented cottage in the woods, leaving Phil behind in charge of the
Island residence.
In response to a wire from his uncle, requesting him to join them at
once and bring along certain articles which had been overlooked, he
had packed his suitcase and paddled across to the city in the morning,
intending to take the train for Sparrow Lake. A chance meeting with an
old classmate, however, had resulted in a sudden decision to delay his
departure for another twenty-four hours in favor of a good time with

Billy Thorpe.
As if in punishment, things had seemed to go wrong with him all day.
In the afternoon the Rochester baseball team had knocked three
Toronto pitchers out of the box, a blow-up which had cost the loyal Mr.
Kendrick twenty-five dollars and a loss of reputation as an authority on
International League standings. Then in the evening, in the crowd out
at The Beach, somebody had taken hold of his silk ribbon fob and
gently removed the gold watch which his aunt had given him on his
birthday. Later still--!
It was the left eye, so swollen now that it was closed to a mere slit.
There was no optical delusion about its nomenclature and in diameter
and chromatic depth it was at the head of its class; in fact, it gave
promise of being by daylight in a class by itself. It was the sort of
decoration which could be relied upon implicitly to fire the imagination
of misguided acquaintances through several merry weeks of green and
yellow recuperation. And withal it cast a reflection upon the fistic
prowess of young Mr. Kendrick which was entirely unjust, it being the
product of what is known as a "lucky punch"--for the other fellow.
No, it was not in the result of the fight that dissatisfaction lay, but in the
cause. McCorquodale's remarks about the Honorable Milton Waring
had been addressed to McCorquodale's two companions; there had
been no intent to insult the Honorable Milton Waring's nephew who sat
at the next table in the restaurant, none of the three worthies being
aware that they were within earshot of a hypersensitive member of the
honorable gentleman's family. That being so, it had been distinctly
foolish for the aforesaid nephew to walk over to the other table and
demand an apology. He should have finished his coffee and cigarette
and strolled out. Or, if he had deemed it imperative to participate in the
political discussion, why in the mischief hadn't he just stepped across,
proffered his cigarette-case and made