e woods. But if he's at Marion, he's drunk; and if
he's drunk, you can't do nothing with him."

"I heard it three days ago," said the scaler.

Tally ruminated. "Well," he concluded, "maybe he's about over with his
bust. I'll run over this afternoon and see what I can do with him. If
Tom Welton would only tear himself apart from California, we'd get on
all right."

A scraping back of benches and a tramp of feet announced the nearly
simultaneous finishing of feeding at the men's tables. At the boss's
table everyone seized an unabashed toothpick. Collins addressed Bob.

"Mr. Fox and I have so much to go over this afternoon," said he, "that I
don't believe I'll have time to show you. Just look around a little."

On the porch outside Bob paused. After a moment he became aware of a
figure at his elbow. He turned to see old Jim Tally bent over to light
his pipe behind the mahogany of his curved hand.

"Want to take in Marion, bub?" he enquired.

"Sure!" cried Bob heartily, surprised at this mark of favour.

"Come on then," said the old riverman, "the lightning express is gettin'
anxious for us."

VII

They tramped to the station and boarded the single passenger car of the
accommodation. There they selected a forward seat and waited patiently
for the freight-handling to finish and for the leisurely puffing little
engine to move on. An hour later they descended at Marion. The journey
had been made in an almost absolute silence. Tally stared straight
ahead, and sucked at his little pipe. To him, apparently, the journey
was merely something to be endured; and he relapsed into that patient
absent-mindedness developed among those who have to wait on forces that
will not be hurried. Bob's remarks he answered in monosyllables. When
the train pulled into the station, Tally immediately arose, as though
released by a spring.

Bob's impressions of Marion were of great mills and sawdust-burners
along a wide river; of broad, sawdust-covered streets; of a single block
of good, brick stores on a main thoroughfare which almost immediately
petered out into the vilest and most ramshackle frame "joints"; of wide
side streets flanked by small, painted houses in yards, some very neat
indeed. Tally walked rapidly by the respectable business blocks, but
pushed into the first of the unkempt frame saloons beyond. Bob followed
close at his heels. He found himself in a cheap bar-room, its paint and
varnish scarred and marred, its flo