"He'll do," he muttered. "He hasn't crushed down the pride yet, and I hope he never will. But he's got a backbone, and that's worth everything!"
In drawing a chair to the rail he found that seated beside him was the little fat man he had noticed at the Annex. This jovial individual was smoking a big cigar and leaning back contentedly with his feet against the bulwark. Jarrod thought the expression upon the round face invited companionship.
"Going to Tamawaca?" he asked.
"Yep," said Geo. B. Still.
"Been there before?" continued Jarrod, leaning back in turn.
"Yep. Own a cottage there."
"Oh," said the other; "then I'm glad to meet you."
"Because I own a cottage?"
"No; because you can tell me something about the place."
"Sure thing!" responded Geo. B. "Climate's fine. When I first went there I had a bad case of indigestion. Doc said I was as good as dead. Told me to eat toasted straw for breakfast and have my wife get her black ready. Look at me now! Would a crape manufacturer smile at my picture? Pshaw!"