The Kid looked mournfully at her. He was a grotesque, this Jim Watson, tall, angular, thin bony face under the tipped-back cap, bald salients running up into his hair on either side the plastered-down front locks. And as he gazed on this wisp of a girl who had slipped mysteriously in among the adroit swindlers and adventuresses of the coast but a few brief years back and had from the very beginning cleverly made her way, his disorganized spirit yearned toward her. She had brains, and used them. She knew how to be nice to a fellow, and the Kid hungered for sympathy. And she was piquantly desirable: in part because men sought her without success. Except perhaps that young naval officer at Hong Kong, the name of no man had been seriously linked with hers; and the fact that he was an eldest son of one of the richest and greatest families in England in a measure removed the incident beyond the confines of normal human experience. No, the Kid could hardly feel that he ought to resent that. He knew, as he so moodily surveyed her, that her sympathy--the word was his own--could be bought only at a high price. The price, indeed, frightened him. He couldn't think along with Dixie and Tex. Nor could he easily conceive of opposing Tex, for the man was strong and merciless. Still.... “See here, Dixie, if I wasn't so fool crazy over you, do you think for a minute I'd let you drag me into this kind of a mix-up? Why, my God!--when I got to thinking about it last night--the risks you're running--” “It's big stakes, Jim. You can't expect a million to fall into your lap. Got to play for it. Tell me--does this Tom Sung understand English?” “Of course! He was a farm laborer in California, and a cook in the United States Navy. Why?” “I may have to talk to him myself before we get through with it.” “Of course you know Tex means to rob you?” “Of course,” said she, smiling a little for the benefit of a customs man who appeared up forward. “You run along now, Jim. This is no game for weak nerves. Remember, I need you.” “Well--just this--” “Careful!” “--You listen, now! You won't find me getting-cold feet--” “I'm sure of that.” “And I ain't afraid o' Tex Connor, either! If you mean that I've got to go up against him--Well, say, look here! If I go through--if I do everything you say--how're we going to stand, you and me?” “I let you give me the watch, didn't I?” “Well--that's all right--but I asked you once to go to the Islands with me, and you wouldn't.” “Not over there. I know too many people.” “Well, somewhere else, then! Tell me straight, now! If we pull this off--shake down a real pile--will you go with me?” She looked thoughtfully at him for a brief moment; then turned again to the river. “You know I'm fond of you, Jim.” “It's a trade, Dixie? If I stick to you, you'll stick to me?” She considered this; finally, very quietly, barely parting her lips, replied, simply: “Yes.” He drew in his breath with a whistling sound.