“I’m on!  Compared to me the Spinks of Egyp’ is as talkative as a phonograph.”

The old man next turned his steps to the Northern Theatre.  The performance was still in progress, and he located the man he was hunting without difficulty.

Ascending the stairs, he knocked at the door of one of the boxes and called for Captain Stephens.

“I’m glad I found you, Cap,” said he.  “It saved me a trip out to your ship in the dark.”

“What’s the matter?”

Dextry drew him to an isolated corner.  “Me an’ my partner want to send a man to the States with you.”

“All right.”

“Well—­er—­here’s the point,” hesitated the miner, who rebelled at asking favors.  “He’s our law sharp, an’ the McNamara outfit is tryin’ to put the steel on him.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Why, they’ve swore out a warrant an’ aim to guard the shore to-morrow.  We want you to—­”

“Mr. Dextry, I’m not looking for trouble.  I get enough in my own business.”

“But, see here,” argued the other, “we’ve got to send him out so he can make a pow-wow to the big legal smoke in ’Frisco.  We’ve been cold-decked with a bum judge.  They’ve got us into a corner an’ over the ropes.”

“I’m sorry I can’t help you, Dextry, but I got mixed up in one of your scrapes and that’s plenty.”

“This ain’t no stowaway.  There’s no danger to you,” began Dextry, but the officer interrupted him: 

“There’s no need of arguing.  I won’t do it.”

“Oh, you won’t, eh?” said the old man, beginning to lose his temper.  “Well, you listen to me for a minute.  Everybody in camp knows that me an’ the kid is on the square an’ that we’re gettin’ the hunk passed to us.  Now, this lawyer party must get away to-night or these grafters will hitch the horses to him on some phony charge so he can’t get to the upper court.  It ’ll be him to the bird-cage for ninety days.  He’s goin’ to the States, though, an’ he’s goin’—­in—­your—­wagon!  I’m talkin’ to you—­man to man.  If you don’t take him, I’ll go to the health inspector—­he’s a friend of mine—­an’ I’ll put a crimp in you an’ your steamboat, I don’t want to do that—­it ain’t my reg’lar graft by no means—­but this bet goes through as she lays.  I never belched up a secret before.  No, sir; I am the human huntin’-case watch, an’ I won’t open my face unless you press me.  But if I should, you’ll see that it’s time for you to hunt a new job.  Now, here’s my scheme.”  He outlined his directions to the sailor, who had fallen silent during the warning.  When he had done, Stephens said: 

“I never had a man talk to me like that before, sir—­never.  You’ve taken advantage of me, and under the circumstances I can’t refuse.  I’ll do this thing—­not because of your threat, but because I heard about your trouble over the Midas—­and because I can’t help admiring your blamed insolence.”  He went back into his stall.