"Because I'm a lonely soul doth seek a comrade. Because the moment I clapped eyes on you I felt drawn to ye, and seeing the scars on your wrist, knew 'em for shackle-marks—and 'twas a bond betwixt us."
"How a bond?"
"Loose me, shipmate, and I'll show ye." Which done, he bared a long and sinewy arm, discovering thereon marks of old fetter-sores like those upon my own.
"So you've slaved at an oar, then?" says I.
"Aye, shipmate!"
"Endured the shame of stripes and nakedness and filth?"
"Aye, shipmate. And more, I've fought for my life on the Inca Death-stone ere now, as you may see by my ears if you know aught of the Maya Indians."
And here without so much as a "by your leave" he sat him down on the bench beside me, and leaning forward began to trace idle patterns in the dust with his stick.
"Shipmate," says he, "I'm a timid man—"
"As a snake," quoth I, "and as deadly!"