"Yep," he said, "Gus has gone, cleared out yesterday afternoon.
Goin' to one of the trainin' camps to try to learn to be an
officer. Eh? What did I say to him? Why, I couldn't say nothin',
could I, but 'Hurrah' and 'God bless you'? But it's leavin' a bad
hole in the bank just the same."
Jed asked if the bank had any one in view to fill that hole.
Captain Sam looked doubtful.
"Well," he replied, "we've got somebody in view that would like to
try and fill it. Barzilla Small was in to see me yesterday
afternoon and he's sartin that his boy Luther--Lute, everybody
calls him--is just the one for the place. He's been to work up in
Fall River in a bank, so Barzilla says; that would mean he must
have had some experience. Whether he'll do or not I don't know,
but he's about the only candidate in sight, these war times. What
do you think of him, Jed?"
Jed rubbed his chin. "To fill Gus Howes' place?" he asked.
"Yes, of course. Didn't think I was figgerin' on makin' him
President of the United States, did you?"
"Hum! . . . W-e-e-ll. . . . One time when I was a little shaver,
Sam, down to the fishhouse, I tried on a pair of Cap'n Jabe Kelly's
rubber boots. You remember Cap'n Jabe, Sam, of course. Do you
remember his feet?"
The captain chuckled. "My dad used to say Jabe's feet reminded him
of a couple of chicken-halibut.
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