Sweetwater expected a blow, but he only got a stare.

“Twenty-five dollars,” muttered the captain.  “Well, it’s fortunate that I have them.  And who are you?” he asked.  “Not one of Campbell’s pick-ups, surely?”

“I am a confidential messenger,” smiled Sweetwater, amused against his will at finding a name for himself.  “I carry messages and execute commissions that require more or less discretion in the handling.  I am paid well.  Twenty-five dollars is the price of this job.”

“So you have had the honour of informing me before,” blustered the other with an attempt to hide some serious emotion.  “Why, man, what do you fear?  Don’t you see I’m hurt?  You could knock me over with a feather if you touched my game arm.”

“Twenty-five dollars,” repeated Sweetwater.

The captain grew angrier.  “Dash it! aren’t you going to have them?  What’s the word?”

But Sweetwater wasn’t going to be caught by chaff.

“C.  O. D.,” he insisted firmly, standing his ground, though certain that the blow would now fall.  But no, the captain laughed, and tugging away with his one free hand at his pocket, he brought out a pocketbook, from which he managed deftly enough to draw out three bills.  “There,” said he, laying them on the table, but keeping one long vigorous finger on them.  “Now, the word.”

Sweetwater laid his own hand on the bills.

“Frederick,” said he.

“Ah!” said the other thoughtfully, lifting his finger and proceeding to stride up and down the room.  “He’s a stiff one.  What he says, he will do.  Two thousand dollars! and soon, too, I warrant.  Well, I’m in a devil of a fix at last.”  He had again forgotten the presence of Sweetwater.

Suddenly he turned or rather stopped.  His eye was on the messenger, but he did not even see him.  “One Frederick must offset the other,” he cried.  “It’s the only loophole out,” and he threw himself into a chair from which he immediately sprang up again with a yell.  He had hurt his wounded arm.

Pandemonium reigned in that small room for a minute, then his eye fell again on Sweetwater, who, under the fascination of the spectacle offered him, had only just succeeded in finding the knob of the door.  This time there was recognition in his look.

“Wait!” he cried.  “I may have use for you too.  Confidential messengers are hard to come by, and one that Campbell would employ must be all right.  Sit down there!  I’ll talk to you when I’m ready.”

Sweetwater was not slow in obeying this command.  Business was booming with him.  Besides, the name of Frederick acted like a charm upon him.  There seemed to be so many Fredericks in the world, and one of them lay in such a curious way near his heart.