r you, ain't it?"
Mr. Travers hesitated and, pushing his cap back, scratched his head.
"I gives you the two quid afore you go into the house," continued the
boatswain, hastily following up the impression he had made. "I'd give
'em to you now if I'd got 'em with me. That's my confidence in you; I
likes the look of you. Soldier or sailor, when there is a man's work to
be done, give 'em to me afore anybody."
[Illustration: "'I gives you the two quid afore you go into the house,'
continued the boatswain."]
The soldier seated himself again and let his bundle fall to the ground.
"Go on," he said, slowly. "Write it out fair and square and sign it, and
I'm your man."
The boatswain clapped him on the shoulder and produced a bundle of papers
from his pocket. "There's letters there with my name and address on
'em," he said. "It's all fair, square, and above-board. When you've
cast your eyes over them I'll give you the writing."
Mr. Travers took them and, re-lighting his pipe, smoked in silence, with
various side glances at his companion as that enthusiast sucked his
pencil and sat twisting in the agonies of composition. The document
finished--after several failures had been retrieved and burnt by the
careful Mr. Travers--the boat-swain heaved a sigh of relief, and handing
it over to him, leaned back with a complacent air while he read it.
"Seems all right," said the soldier, folding it up and putting it in his
waistcoat-pocket. "I'll be here at eleven to-night."
"Eleven it is," said the boatswain, briskly, "and, between pals--here's
arf a dollar to go on with."
He patted him on the shoulder again, and with a caution to keep out of
sight as much as possible till night walked slowly home. His step was
light, but he carried a face in which care and exultation were strangely
mingled.
By ten o'clock that night care was in the ascendant, and by eleven, when
he discerned the red glow of Mr. Travers's pipe set as a beacon against a
dark background of hedge, the boatswain was ready to curse his inventive
powers. Mr. Travers greeted him cheerily and, honestly attributing the
fact to good food and a couple of pints of beer he had had since the
boatswain left him, said that he was ready for anything.
Mr. Benn grunted and led the way in silence. There was no moon, but the
night was clear, and Mr. Travers, after one or two light-hearted attempts
at conversation, abandoned the effort and fell to whistling softl
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