"Why," quoth he, nodding, "You're big enough and wild enough and as likely a cut-throat as another—what's the lay?"
"The high pad!" says I.
"Where away?"
"'Tis no matter!"
"All I asks is," quoth the fellow with a quizzical look, "how you've fobbed the nubbing-cheat so long!"
"And what I ask is," quoth I, "how a sailor-man comes to know the patter o' the flash coves!"
"'Tis no matter," says he, "but since you're o' the Brotherhood sit ye and welcome, 'tis dry enough here in this cave."
Staying for no second bidding I entered the little cave and sat me down in the comforting warmth of the fire. The man was a comely fellow of a hectoring, swashing air, bright of eyes and instant of gesture; close to hand lay a short cutting-sword, pistols bulged his deep coat-pockets, while betwixt his knees was a battered case-bottle.
"Well," says he, eyeing me over, "what's the word?"
"Food!" says I.