“The boss,” said that gentleman, “can size a man in and out, and all through, in about the time it would take you and me to tell the color of his hair.  He don’t make mistakes, you bet; but old Dingy—­the dep—­you settled with your clothes.”

“My clothes!” echoed Randolph, with a faint flush.

“Yes, English cut—­that fetched him.”

And so his work began.  His liberal salary, which seemed to him munificent in comparison with his previous earnings in the mines, enabled him to keep the contents of the buckskin purse intact, and presently to return the borrowed suit of clothes to the portmanteau.  The mysterious owner should find everything as when he first placed it in his hands.  With the quick mobility of youth and his own rather mercurial nature, he had begun to forget, or perhaps to be a little ashamed of his keen emotions and sufferings the night of his arrival, until that night was recalled to him in a singular way.

One Sunday a vague sense of duty to his still missing benefactor impelled him to spend part of his holiday upon the wharves.  He had rambled away among the shipping at the newer pier slips, and had gazed curiously upon decks where a few seamen or officers in their Sunday apparel smoked, paced, or idled, trying vainly to recognize the face and figure which had once briefly flashed out under the flickering wharf lamp.  Was the stranger a shipmaster who had suddenly transferred himself to another vessel on another voyage?  A crowd which had gathered around some landing steps nearer shore presently attracted his attention.  He lounged toward it and looked over the shoulders of the bystanders down upon the steps.  A boat was lying there, which had just towed in the body of a man found floating on the water.  Its features were already swollen and defaced like a hideous mask; its body distended beyond all proportion, even to the bursting of its sodden clothing.  A tremulous fascination came over Randolph as he gazed.  The bystanders made their brief comments, a few authoritatively and with the air of nautical experts.

“Been in the water about a week, I reckon.”

“’Bout that time; just rucked up and floated with the tide.”

“Not much chance o’ spottin’ him by his looks, eh?”

“Nor anything else, you bet.  Reg’larly cleaned out.  Look at his pockets.”

“Wharf-rats or shanghai men?”

“Betwixt and between, I reckon.  Man who found him says he’s got an ugly cut just back of his head.  Ye can’t see it for his floating hair.”

“Wonder if he got it before or after he got in the water.”

“That’s for the coroner to say.”

“Much he knows or cares,” said another cynically.  “It’ll just be a case of ‘Found drowned’ and the regular twenty-five dollars to him, and five to the man who found the body.  That’s enough for him to know.”