“A little bit of care is a good thing in any life. I told them good stories, and they liked that. I used to make the stories up, and they liked that also. When I added some swear words they liked them all the better. I learned how to do it.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of you, but not as Tarboe.”
“You heard of me as Renton, eh?”
“Yes, as Renton. I wonder I never came across you till to-day.”
“I kept out of your way; that was the reason. When you came north, I got farther into the backwoods.”
“Are you absolutely straight, Tarboe?” asked John Grier eagerly. “Do you do these things in the Garden of Eden way, or can you run a bit crooked when it’s worth while?”
“If I’d ever seen it worth while, I’d say so. I could run a bit crooked if I was fighting among the big ones, or if we were at war with—Belloc, eh!” A cloud came into the eyes of Tarboe. “If I was fighting Belloc, and he used a weapon to flay me from behind, I’d never turn my back on him!”
A grim smile came into Tarboe’s face. His jaw set almost viciously, his eyes hardened. “You people don’t play your game very well, Mr. Grier. I’ve seen a lot that wants changing.”
“Why don’t you change it, then?”
Tarboe laughed. “If I was boss like you, I’d change it, but I’m not, and I stick to my own job.”