"Gut any family?"

"No."

"Ever shipped afore?"

"No."

Stubbs settled further back in his chair and studied the ceiling.

"Wotcher want to git there for?"

"I have a friend who's somewhere down there," he said frankly.

"Man?"

"No."

"Women," mused Stubbs, "is strange. Can't never lay your hand on a
woman. Here they are an' here they ain't. I had a woman once't. Yes, I
had a woman once't."

He relapsed into a long silence and Wilson studied him with
friendlier interest than before. Life was written large upon his
wrinkled face, but the eyes beneath the heavy brows redeemed many of
the bitter lines. It was clear that the man had lived much within
himself in spite of his long rubbing against the world. He was a man,
Wilson thought, who could warn men off, or welcome them in, at will.

"Maybe," he resumed, "maybe you'll come an' maybe you won't. Come if
you wanter."

"Where to?"

"To Choco Bay. Can't promise you nothin' but a berth to the
port,--good pay an' a damned rough time after you get there. Maybe
your throat cut in the end."

"I'll go," said Wilson, instantly.

The gray eyes brightened.

"Now I ain't promised you nothin', have I, but to git you to the
coast?"

"No."

"Hain't said nothin', have I, 'bout what may happen to you after you
git there?"

"Only that I may get my throat cut."

"What's the difference if you do? But if you wants to, I'll gamble my
chest agin a chaw that you won't. Nothin' ever comes out right."

"But I don't want to. I most particularly object to getting my throat
cut."

"Then," said Stubbs, "maybe you will. Where's your kit?"

"On my back."

"You'll need more than that. Come on."

Stubbs led the way to a second-hand store and bought for his new-found
friend a flannel shirt, trousers like his own, a pair of stout boots,
and a cap.

Wilson had nothing left of his ten dollars.

"All the same," said Stubbs. "Settle when you git your pay."

He led him then to a pawn shop where he picked out a thirty-two
calibre revolver and several boxes of cartridges. Also a thick-bladed
claspknife.

"See here, Stubbs," objected Wilson, "I don't need those things. I'm
not going pirating, am I?"

"Maybe so. Maybe only missionaryin'. But a gun's a useful ornyment in
either case."

He drew out a heavy silver watch and with his forefinger marking off
each hour, computed how much time was left to him.

"What d' ye say," he broke out, looking up at Wilson, "what d' y