THE TURTLES OF TASMAN
BY
JACK LONDON
AUTHOR OF THE CALL OF THE WILD, TERRY, ADVENTURE, ETC.
NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS
Published by Arrangement with The Macmillan Company
Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1916. Reprinted October,November, 1916; February, 1917, December, 1919.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
| BY THE TURTLES OF TASMAN |
| THE ETERNITY OF FORMS |
| TOLD IN THE DROOLING WARD |
| THE HOBO AND THE FAIRY |
| THE PRODIGAL FATHER |
| THE FIRST POET |
| FINIS |
| THE END OF THE STORY |
THE TURTLES OF TASMAN
BY THE TURTLES OF TASMAN
I
Law, order, and restraint had carved Frederick Travers' face. It was thestrong, firm face of one used to power and who had used power withwisdom and discretion. Clean living had made the healthy skin, and thelines graved in it were honest lines. Hard and devoted work had left itswholesome handiwork, that was all. Every feature of the man told thesame story, from the clear blue of the eyes to the full head of hair,light brown, touched with grey, and smoothly parted and drawn straightacross above the strong-domed forehead. He was a seriously groomed man,and the light summer business suit no more than befitted his alertyears, while it did not shout aloud that its possessor was likewise thepossessor of numerous millions of dollars and property.
For Frederick Travers hated ostentation. The machine that waited outsidefor him under the porte-cochère was sober black. It was the mostexpensive machine in the county, yet he did not care to flaunt its priceor horse-power in a red flare across the landscape, which also wasmostly his, from the sand dunes and the everlasting beat of the Pacificbreakers, across the fat bottomlands and upland pastures, to the farsummits clad with redwood forest and wreathed in fog and cloud.
A rustle of skirts caused him to look over his shoulder. Just thefaintest hint of irritation showed in his manner. Not that his daughterwas the object, however. Whatever it was, it seemed to lie on the deskbefore him.
"What is that outlandish name again?" she asked. "I know I shall neverremember it. See, I've brought a pad to write it down."
Her voice was low and cool, and she was a tall, well-formed,clear-skinned young woman. In her voice and complacence she, too,showed the drill-marks of order and restraint.
Frederick Travers scanned the signature of one of two letters on thedesk. "Bronislawa Plaskoweitzkaia Travers," he read; then spelled thedifficult first portion, letter by letter, while his daughter wrote itdown.
"N