Harrigan raised his hand.
"So help me God—" he began.
"Wait!" broke in McTee. "Don't say it. Suppose we get off the island, and when we reach port find one thing which we both want. What then?"
Harrigan remembered a word from the Bible.
"I'll never covet one of your belongin's, McTee, an' I'll never cross your wishes."
"Your hair is red, Harrigan, and mine is black; your eye is blue and mine is black. We were made to want the same thing in different ways. I've never met my mate before. I can stand it here on the rim of the world—but in the world itself—what then, Harrigan?"
They stepped apart, and the glance of the black eye crossed that of the cold blue.
"Ah-h, McTee, are ye dark inside and out? Is the black av your eye the same as the soot in your heart?"
"Harrigan, you were born to fight and forget; I was born to fight and remember. Well, I take no oath, but here's my hand. It's better than the oath of most men."
"A strange fist," grinned Harrigan; "soft in the palm and hard over the knuckles—like mine."