" An explanation of some kind was an absolute necessity,
just as some working explanation of the universe is necessary--however
absurd--to the happiness of every individual who seeks to do his duty in
the world and face the problems of life. The simile seemed to me at the
time an exact parallel.
I at once set the pitch melting, and presently the Swede joined me at the
work, though under the best conditions in the world the canoe could not be
safe for traveling till the following day. I drew his attention casually to
the hollows in the sand.
"Yes," he said, "I know. They're all over the island. But you can explain
them, no doubt!"
"Wind, of course," I answered without hesitation. "Have you never watched
those little whirlwinds in the street that twist and twirl everything into
a circle? This sand's loose enough to yield, that's all."
He made no reply, and we worked on in silence for a bit. I watched him
surreptitiously all the time, and I had an idea he was watching me. He
seemed, too, to be always listening attentively to something I could not
hear, or perhaps for something that he expected to hear, for he kept
turning about and staring into the bushes, and up into the sky, and out
across the water where it was visible through the openings among the
willows. Sometimes he even put his hand to his ear and held it there for
several minutes. He said nothing to me, however, about it, and I asked no
questions. And meanwhile, as he mended that torn canoe with the skill and
address of a red Indian, I was glad to notice his absorption in the work,
for there was a vague dread in my heart that he would speak of the changed
aspect of the willows.
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