“Now you can start home.  But first we will have some more talk about that tobacco matter.  I know you now.  I know your abilities as well as you know them yourself—­perhaps better.  You understand that tobacco matter; you understand that I am going to take possession of it, and you also understand the plans which I have matured for doing it.  What I want is a man who knows my mind, and is qualified to represent me in Memphis, and be in supreme command of that important business—­and I appoint you.”

“Me!”

“Yes.  Your salary will be high—­of course-for you are representing me.  Later you will earn increases of it, and will get them.  You will need a small army of assistants; choose them yourself—­and carefully.  Take no man for friendship’s sake; but, all things being equal, take the man you know, take your friend, in preference to the stranger.”  After some further talk under this head, the Commodore said: 

“Good-bye, my boy, and thank Alf for me, for sending you to me.”

When Ed reached Memphis he rushed down to the wharf in a fever to tell his great news and thank the boys over and over again for thinking to give him the letter to Mr. Vanderbilt.  It happened to be one of those idle times.  Blazing hot noonday, and no sign of life on the wharf.  But as Ed threaded his way among the freight piles, he saw a white linen figure stretched in slumber upon a pile of grain-sacks under an awning, and said to himself, “That’s one of them,” and hastened his step; next, he said, “It’s Charley—­it’s Fairchild good”; and the next moment laid an affectionate hand on the sleeper’s shoulder.  The eyes opened lazily, took one glance, the face blanched, the form whirled itself from the sack-pile, and in an instant Ed was alone and Fairchild was flying for the wharf-boat like the wind!

Ed was dazed, stupefied.  Was Fairchild crazy?  What could be the meaning of this?  He started slow and dreamily down toward the wharf-boat; turned the corner of a freight-pile and came suddenly upon two of the boys.  They were lightly laughing over some pleasant matter; they heard his step, and glanced up just as he discovered them; the laugh died abruptly; and before Ed could speak they were off, and sailing over barrels and bales like hunted deer.  Again Ed was paralyzed.  Had the boys all gone mad?  What could be the explanation of this extraordinary conduct?  And so, dreaming along, he reached the wharf-boat, and stepped aboard nothing but silence there, and vacancy.  He crossed the deck, turned the corner to go down the outer guard, heard a fervent—­

“O lord!” and saw a white linen form plunge overboard.

The youth came up coughing and strangling, and cried out—­

“Go ’way from here!  You let me alone.  I didn’t do it, I swear I didn’t!”

“Didn’t do what?”

“Give you the——­”

“Never mind what you didn’t do—­come out of that!  What makes you all act so?  What have I done?”