“Business.” He eyed me sharply. “There’ll be no woman aboard?”
“Scarcely,” I assured.
“All right. No woman. I’ve been across time and again, by train—and there were women; by auto—drove my own car, alone, but there were the women, before, behind, and no way to avoid them.” He grumbled almost, savagely. “I’ll go by air,” he resumed. “I want to get to San Francisco at once. I want to look around. Do you stop at Denver? Salt Lake? Cheyenne?”
“Straight to San Francisco,” said I. “We may have to land en route, perhaps Cheyenne, perhaps Reno; but not for long and I make no promises.”
“All right. I’ll look around San Francisco. I may have missed something. Then I can work back. I’m not through. You’ll have to take me. I’ll pay you double. I’m sounder than most of the younger men; I have no family——”
“You’re not married, sir?” I queried.
“No, no! Thank God, no! You accept me?”
He noted me hesitate. Perhaps he sensed that I deemed him a trifle off center.
“I’ll give you references,” he proffered with dignity. “I’m not crazy—not quite. Look me up, for I mean to go. San Francisco, again: then I can work back. There’s always the chance,” he muttered. “Yes, there’s always the chance.” And he challenged: “If you find me sane and sound, it’s a bargain, is it?”
“Possibly so, in case——”