r me. But you know and I know you're all right
now, remembering clear enough everything that happened since you was
arrested, and I don't see what difference it makes whether or not you
remember who your great-aunt was, and the scrapes you got in as a kid.
You can talk and walk and figger, get by in any comp'ny, and you suit me
for a buddy just as you are. However, Forest seemed to think it was
mighty important--and it may be.

"The reason I'm goin' to take you where I'm goin' to take you is for
your own good. I'm sort of responsible for you, bein' your folks are
dead. I know you from head to heel, and I think I know what's good for
you, what you can do and what you can't do and where you succeed and
where you fail. And I'll say right here you wasn't born to be no gangman
in a big city like Seattle. You'll find that isn't your line at all."

"I'm willing to take your word for that, Mr. Melville," Ben interposed
quietly.

"And I might say, now a good time as any, to let up on the '_Mister_.'
My name is Ezra Melville, and I've been known as 'Ezram' as long as I
can remember, to my friends. The Darbys in particular called me that,
and you're a Darby.

"I'll say in the beginning I can't do for you all I'd like to do, simply
because I haven't the means. The first time you saw me I was walkin'
ties, and you'll see me walkin' some more of 'em before you're done. I
know you ain't got any money, and due to the poker habit I ain't got
much either--in spite of the fact I've done two men's work for something
over forty years. On this expedition to come we'll have to go on the
cheaps. No Pullmans, no hotels--sleeping out the hay when we're caught
out at night. Maybe ridin' the blinds, whenever we can. I'm awful sorry,
but it jest can't be helped. But I will say--when it comes to work I can
do my full share, without kickin'."

Ben stared in amazement. It was almost as if the old man were pleading a
case, rather than giving glorious alms to one to whom hope had seemed
dead. Ben tried to cut in, to ask questions, but the old man's words
swept his own away.

"To begin at the beginning, I've got a brother--leastwise I had him a
few weeks ago--Hiram Melville by name," Ezram went on. "You'd remember
him well enough. He was a prospector up to a place called Snowy Gulch--a
town way up in the Caribou Mountains, in Canada. Some weeks ago, herdin'
cattle in Eastern Oregon, I got a letter from him, and started north,
runnin' into you on t