and I have enemies. I like to fight, Murk, but I like to have a good pal
at my back when I do."

"That's me, too, sir; but I ain't ever had the pal."

"You've got one now, Murk. You'd be dead now, but for me. So you must be
my man, understand?"

"I don't quite getcha."

"You're under my orders from now on, Murk. We'll have a nice row,
standing back to back perhaps. I'll take you on as a sort of valet and
bodyguard. You'll have good clothes and a home and plenty to eat and a
bit of money to spend. I'll expect you to be loyal. If I find that you
are not--well, Murk, I got back yesterday from Central America. I got my
million down there, by fighting for it, and there were times when I had
to handle men roughly. I can read men, Murk. Can you imagine what I'd do
to a man who double crossed me?"

"I getcha now! You needn't be afraid I'll double cross you. I don't
think this is real."

"It's real, Murk, if we strike a bargain. Do we?"

"I've got everything to win and nothin' to lose--so we do!" Murk said.

"Fair enough. Now we'll get off this dock. Pick up your cap and coat."

Murk picked them up and put them on, and then he followed at Prale's
heels until they were on the street and beneath the nearest light. There
they stopped and looked each other over.

Murk was short, but he was built for strength. Prale could tell at a
glance that the man, even poorly nourished as he was, had muscles that
could be depended on. Prale liked the look around Murk's eyes, too. Murk
was a dog man, the sort that proves faithful to the end if treated
right.

"Well, how do you like me?" Prale asked.

"You look good to me, sir."

"My name is Sidney Prale."

"Yes, Mr. Prale."

"You understand our little deal thoroughly?"

"Yes, sir."

"Come along, then. Here is a cigar--light up!"

Murk lighted the cigar, and Prale lighted another, and they went rapidly
up the street to Fifth Avenue. Prale signaled a passing taxicab, and
they got in. When the cab stopped, it was in a district where some cheap
clothing stores remain open until almost midnight.

Half an hour later they emerged again. Murk was dressed in a suit which
was somber in tone, and which was not at all a bad fit. He was dressed
in new clothing from the skin out. Prale took him to a barber shop, and
waited until the barber gave Murk a hair cut and a shave.

"Gosh!" Murk said, when he looked at himself in the glass. "This can't
be me!"

"It is, however," Prale assu