"Now Heaven is kind!" says he. "I hadn't raised my hopes above a Sam or a Tommy, but to think of a strapping, blue-eyed, brick-topped, bully-boy Bill! Bill!" he says, "can you guess Old Man Noah's feelings when the little bird flew up to him with the tree in his teeth? Well, he'll seem sad alongside of me when I catch sight of that sunrise head of yours above my gang of mud-colored greasers and Chinamen. You owe it to charity to give me that pleasure. By the way, William, if you should see a greaser flatten his ears back and lay a hand on his knife, what would you do--read him a chapter of the Bible, or kick him in the belt?" I thought this over. "I don't know," says I. "I never saw anybody do that." "Bill," says he, "I'm getting more and more contented with you. I thought at first you might be quarrelsome. You don't fight, do you?" "Well," I says, flustered, "not to any great extent--not unless I get mad, or the other feller does something, or I feel I ought to, or--" "'Nough said," says he. "There's reasons enough to keep the peace of Europe. I have observed, Bill, in this and many other countries, that dove-winged peace builds her little nest when I hit first and hardest. I tell you, on the square, I'll use you right as long as you seem to appreciate it. That's my line of action, and I can prove it by Jesse--I can prove anything by Jesse. No; but, honest, boy, if you come with me, there's little chance for us to bunk as long as you do your share. And," he says, sizing me up, "if an accident should happen, when you've got more meat on that frame of yours, be durned if I don't believe it would be worth the trouble." "Explain to him," says Jesse; "the boy's just away from his ma--he don't know nothing about working out." Jim turned to me, perfectly serious--he was like Sax--joke as long as it was joking-time, then drop it and talk as straight as a rifle-barrel. "I want a right-hand man of my own country," he says. "You'll have to watch gangs of men to see they work up; keep an eye on what goes out from the stores; beat the head off the first beggar you see abusing a horse; and do what I tell you, generally. For that, I'll put one hundred United States dollars in your jeans each and every month we're together, unless you prove to be worth more--or nothing. I won't pay less, for the man in the job that ain't worth a hundred ain't worth a cent--how's it hit you!" A hundred dollars a month! It hit me so hard my teeth rattled. "Well," I stammers, "a hundred dollars is an awful lot of money--you ain't going to find the worth of it in my hide--I don't know about bossing men and things like that--why, I don't know _anything_--" He put his hand on my shoulder and smiled at me. He had a smile as sweet as a woman's. He was as nice as a woman, on his good side--and you'd better keep that side toward you. Him and Sax was of a breed there, too. I understood him better from knowing Sax.