“You say he ain't there? Did you look for him good?” he demanded being assured on this point he requested the person in the street to go over to James's drug store. “I shouldn't wonder if he ain't playing checkers there,” he added. This quest proved successful, for two minutes later the captain, wearing an air of cheerful and contented prosperity, bustled into the room. “Bless me! Is it you, Jake?” he cried in astonishment, on seeing whom his visitor was. Benson's greeting was curt but civil. “Where are you stopping?” asked Gibbs. “And what are you doing here, anyhow? Not that it is any of my business, for it ain't.” Benson briefly explained the nature of the mission that was taking him West, and as he did so, the captain rubbed the tip of his nose with his forefinger, regarding him the while with a growing wonder. “Have a drink?” he demanded, when the lawyer had finished. “No.” “Signed the pledge?” “No.” “Oh! Joined the Infant Bands of Hope?” Benson smiled at this sally, and the captain laughed. “So you're going to find Stephen Landray?” he said, suddenly checking his mirth. “Considering the size of your contract, you take it easy enough, but I guess you don't know what you're in for.” “Have you still that knife, Gibbs?” “Yes, it's in my desk here.” “I'd like to look at it if you have no objection.” “Not the least in the world,” and he produced it from the disorder of a pigeonhole. Benson took it and examined it. “I wish you'd give me this,” he said. “Want it for yourself?” Benson shook his head. “Well, present it to her as coming from me, will you?” “Certainly,” and Benson slipped the blade back into the sheath, and the sheath into his pocket. Gibbs watched him with a smile that constantly widened. “So you are going across the plains to look for Stephen Landray?” he observed drily. “Yes.” “Interested in finding any of the others of the party?” asked the captain. “I am as much interested in the others as I am in him,” said Benson quickly. “Oh, no you ain't, you don't give more than a casual damn about the others. I can tell you why you're going—no—you don't want me to? Well, I'll tell you anyhow; she asked you to.” He shook his finger playfully in Benson's face. “Oh, fie—fie, my dear young friend, and you would have me think your motive purely disinterested.” Benson shrugged his shoulders, and said rather sternly: “I'm sorry you find it difficult to believe in my disinterestedness.” The captain closed one eye, he was in a most jocular mood. “Not for a beautifully sane character like you, Jake; there's a lake down in Georgia that's six miles across and four inches deep, but you ain't like that lake; there's a good deal of your father in you. It will come out one of these days, and when it does you will take the skin right off of people's backs, and you will do it without a pang.” “Thanks,” said Benson.