“Enough for a living.”
“I noticed you had a mark on the end of every big stick—looked like a groove cut in a circle—most a foot across.”
“Yes, that's my mark.”
“The idea being that people will know your stuff, I suppose.”
Spencer nodded shortly. “I'm getting out the best lumber on the Great Lakes—that's why I mark it—help yourself to that bottle—there, I 'll just set it where you can reach it.” Dick would have stopped ordinarily at two glasses. To-day he stopped at nothing. “Much obliged. I haven't touched anything as strong as this for two years.”
“Swore off?”
“Sort of, but I don't know that I've been any better off for it. There's nothing so good after sailing the best part of a week.”
“You're right, there ain't. And that's the pure article there—wouldn't hurt a babe in arms. Take another. You haven't been working for Cap'n Stenzenberger many years, have you?”
Throughout this conversation Spencer was studying Smiley's face.
“No, nothing like so long as Henry.”