“What eyes! Well, well!” exclaimed Adam, sensible of a warmth along his veins. Suddenly at that moment he thought of his brother Guerd. “I’m glad he’s not here.” Margarita had prompted that thought. Guerd was a handsome devil, irresistible to women. Adam went back to his unpacking, conscious of a sobered enthusiasm.
He hung his few clothes and belongings upon the walls, made his bed of blankets on the sand, and then surveyed the homely habitation with pleasure.
He found the old fisherman in precisely the same posture. Adam climbed on board the boat.
“Get any bites?” he queried.
“I believe I jest had one,” replied the fisherman.
Adam saw that he was about fifty years old, lean and dried, with a wrinkled tanned face and scant beard.
“Have a smoke,” said Adam, proffering one of the last of his cigars.
“Lordy!” ejaculated the fisherman, his eyes lighting. “When have I seen one of them?... Young man, you’re an obligin’ feller. What’s your name?”
Adam told him, and that he hailed from the East and had been a tenderfoot for several memorable weeks.
“My handle’s Merryvale,” replied the other. “I came West twenty-eight years ago when I was about your age. Reckon you’re about twenty.”