“I've got something here that'll outlast an El Sol a whole day,” continued Captain Breast, tugging at his pocket and pulling out a six-inch cigar as black as the night. “Just you try that.”
The Captain instantly struck a match on his boot and was puffing in a silent enjoyment which delighted his friend.
“Reckon he don't bring out cigars when you make him a call,” said the steamboat captain, jerking his thumb up at the house. It was Mr. Jacob Cluyme's.
Captain Grant did not reply to that, nor did Captain Lige expect him to, as it was the custom of this strange and silent man to speak ill of no one. He turned rather to put the stakes back into his wagon.
“Where are you off to, Lige?” he asked.
“Lord bless my soul,” said Captain Lige, “to think that I could forget!” He tucked a bundle tighter under his arm. “Grant, did you ever see my little sweetheart, Jinny Carvel?” The Captain sighed. “She ain't little any more, and she eighteen to-day.”
Captain Grant clapped his hand to his forehead.
“Say, Lige,” said he, “that reminds me. A month or so ago I pulled a fellow out of Renault's area across from there. First I thought he was a thief. After he got away I saw the Colonel and his daughter in the window.”
Instantly Captain Lige became excited, and seized Captain Grant by the cape of his overcoat.
“Say, Grant, what kind of appearing fellow was he?”