Zoeth muttered something to the effect that he didn't know as he ever did. “You don't know! Yes, you do know, too. Speak up, why don't you? Don't sit there like a ship's figgerhead, starin' at nothin'. You know it's craziness as well's I do. For God sakes, say somethin'! TALK!” Mr. Hamilton talked--to this extent: “Hush, Shadrach,” he faltered. “Don't be profane.” “Profane! Pup-pup-profane! You set there and--and--Oh, jumpin', creepin' Judas! I--I--” Language--even his language--failed to express his feelings and he waved his fists and sputtered. Baxter seized the opportunity. “Before you make your decision, gentlemen,” he said, “I hope you will consider the situation carefully. The girl is only seven years old; she has no relations anywhere, so far as we know. If you decline the trust a guardian will have to be appointed by the courts, I suppose. Who that guardian will be, or what will become of the poor child I'm sure I don't know. And Captain Marcellus was perfectly sane; he knew what he was doing.” Shadrach interrupted. “He did!” he shouted. “Well, then, I must say--” “Just a minute, please, I have a letter here which he wrote at the time he made his will. It is addressed to both of you. Here it is. Shall I read it to you, or had you rather read it yourselves?” Zoeth answered. “I guess maybe you'd better read it, Judge,” he said. “I don't cal'late Shadrach nor me are capable of readin' much of anything just this minute. You read it. Shadrach, you be still now and listen.” The Captain opened his mouth and raised a hand. “Be still, Shadrach,” repeated Zoeth. The hand fell. Captain Gould sighed. “All right, Zoeth,” he said. “I'll keep my batch closed long's I can. Heave ahead, Judge.” The letter was a long one, covering several sheets of foolscap. It began: To Shadrach, Gould and Zoeth Hamilton, my old partners and friends. DEAR SHAD AND ZOETH: I am writing this to you because I have known you pretty much all my life and you are the only real friends I have got in this world. “I was his friend, or I tried to be,” commented Baxter, interrupting his reading; “but he considered you two, and always spoke of you, as his oldest and nearest friends. He has often told me that he knew he could depend on you. Now listen.” The letter went on to state that the writer realized his health was no longer good, that he was likely to die at any time and was quite reconciled.