Winn did not think he could eat a mouthful, so full was he of grief and
trouble; but on making the attempt, merely to gratify the kindly soul,
found that he not only could but did dispose of as hearty a meal of
bread and milk, coffee, bacon, and sweet-potatoes, as any he had ever
eaten in his life. Not only that, but as his faintness from hunger
disappeared his hopefulness returned, and by the time he had finished
eating fully half of his troubles had vanished. He was still
overwhelmed with grief at the supposed loss of his brave young uncle,
but he had already resolved upon a plan of action, and felt better for
having done so. He would send a telegram to his father hinting at the
great sorrow that had overtaken them, and asking him to come on at
once. Then he would notify the police of the collision, with its
probable loss of at least three lives, and ask them to keep a watch for
the bodies. He would also tell them of the lost raft.
After great searching, Clod finally produced an old pen, some very
thick ink, and a few sheets of paper quite yellow with age. Then he
watched with respectful admiration the writing of the telegram, for
penmanship was an art he had never acquired. He offered to take the
message to the telegraph office while Winn was preparing a statement
for the police, and as he was evidently anxious to be of service, the
boy allowed him to do so.
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