"Better still! When'll it be?"
"I don't know yet."
"Am I the first you've talked to?"
"Yes."
"Good! Good! I'll help you. I'll be your second."
The old fellow rubbed his hands together and the gleam came back into his eyes, while his furrowed face became tinged with a faint glow that shone youthful beneath the coarsened, weather-worn skin.
Sargent stared at him blankly.
"You," he exclaimed, seemingly without comprehension.
"Yes, I—that is," and the Captain glanced at him with a tinge of resentment, "unless you prefer some one else."
Sargent grasped his hands silently.