"I'm a younger son," said he. I was green myself in those days, and knew nothing of primogeniture.
"That is a very interesting piece of family history," said I, "but it does not answer my question."
He smiled.
"Well now, I hadn't thought of that," said he, "but in a manner of speaking, it does. I do nothing."
"Well," said I, unabashed, "if you saw me trying to be a younger son and likely to forget myself and do something without meaning to, wouldn't you be apt to warn me?"
"Well, 'pon honour, you're a queer chap. What do you mean?"
"I mean that if you hire any of those men to guide you in the mountains, you'll be outrageously cheated, and will be lucky if you're not gobbled by Apaches."
"Do you do any guiding yourself, now?" he asked, most innocent of manner.
But I flared up.
"You damn ungrateful pup," I said, "go to the devil in your own way," and turned square on my heel.