Manuel, cursing low, lifted his pack and went down the gangplank. As he stepped upon the dock a man accosted him.
“Do you still want a partner?”
The question was put by the blond passenger. Manuel looked at him keenly for the first time, discovering a man as powerfully built as himself, whose gray eyes had a shadow, and about whom there was a hint of recklessness.
“You’re not a rubber hunter?” asked Manuel.
“No.”
“Why do you want to go with me? You heard what kind of a country it is along the Palcazu?”
“Yes, I heard. That’s why I want to go.”
“Ha, ha!” laughed Manuel curiously. “Señor, what shall I call you?”
“It’s no matter.”
“Very well, it shall be Señor.”