Troubled, Mike looked at him.
"If ye do, Mike can teach ye the ropes. Don't forget. Will ye have a drink before——"
Scholar looked at the floor, then up at Mike's face.
"It wouldn't just be one, Mike," he said.
The baffled look showed again.
"You're right—another on the top of it, and so on. Men that's friends will start quarrelling in liquor." Mike looked as if he had much to say as they drifted towards the door. The tall shepherd from the boarding house was outside waiting for them. Somebody said: "We're going to see Frenchy off in the train." Another announced: "Scholar's taking a train, too." Mike blew a deep breath. He turned round and looked at them as though they worried him, shaking his head upwards, and they fell back.
"I'll not be after coming with you," he said. "Them fellers will be cheerin' and screamin.' We may meet again, or we may not. It's all bloody strange," and he held out his hand. They did not pump-handle; they grasped hands warmly. Each felt that the other had much in common with him, but they had need of an interpreter.
"Well, so long, Scholar. Luck with ye, and God bless ye."
"So long, Mike."
THE END