"Except the claim that one gentleman has upon another--which should count for something. It always has with me."
"Upon my word I don't know how to thank you."
"Don't try. It is myself I am rendering a service to, not you. This deserted hole, and the association of those men"--jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the tent--"sicken me. Does there not come to some men a crisis in their lives which compels them to turn over a new leaf, as the saying is, to cut themselves away entirely from the past and commence life anew?"
"Yes," said Basil, struck by the application of this figure of speech to his own circumstances, "it has come to me."
"And to me. I intended to leave Gum Flat to-morrow, and I did not know in which direction. I felt like Robinson Crusoe on the desert island, without a friend, without a kindred soul to talk to, to associate with. If you will allow me to look upon you as a friend you will put me under a deep obligation. Should the brother of the poor gentleman who died so suddenly this morning--the father of that sweet young lady of whom you speak so tenderly--succeed in having things all his own way, you will be cast adrift, as I am. It is best to look things straight in the face, is it not?--even unpleasant things."
"It is the most sensible course," said Basil.
"Exactly. The most sensible course--and the most manly. Why should not you and I throw in our fortunes together? I am sure we should suit each other."
"I can but thank you," said Basil. "It is worth thinking over."
"All right; there is plenty of time before us. Let us go into the store now. A word of warning first. The men inside are not to be trusted. I was thrown into their company against my will, and I felt that the association was degrading to me. We can't pick and choose in this part of the world."
"Indeed we cannot. I will not forget your warning. To speak honestly, I am not in the mood or condition for society. I have had a hard day, and am dead beat."