"You look all right to me," he said. "A man has got to make friends, and if you trust me I don’t see why I can’t trust you. Besides, I’m terribly anxious to go back out there, and my reason is mighty good." "Then shall we consider it a bargain?" said Middleton. "You may count me one of the band as long as you will have me," said the stranger with hearty emphasis, "and I suppose I oughtn’t to come in as an unknown. My name is Breakstone, William Breakstone, though I am always called Bill Breakstone by those who know me. Bill Breakstone seems to run off smoother." He smiled in the most ingratiating manner. The sudden acquisition of friends seemed to have clothed him about with sunlight. All the others felt that they had made no mistake. "I’m a rover," said Bill Breakstone in round, cheerful tones. "I’ve been roaming all my life, though I’m bound to say it hasn’t been to much purpose. As you see me now, I haven’t got nearly enough to buy either a rifle or a horse for this big trip on which you’re asking me to go, and on which I’m wanting to go terrible bad." "Never mind, Mr. Breakstone--" began Middleton, but he was interrupted. "I’m Breakstone or Bill to those that feed with me," said the new man, "and I’m Mr. Breakstone to those that don’t like me or suspect me." "All right," said Middleton with a laugh, "it’s Breakstone for the present. By and by we may call you Bill. I was going to tell you, Breakstone, that we four go in together. We furnish you what you need, and later on you pay us back if you can. It’s the usual thing in the West." "You’re right, my lord," said Bill Breakstone, "and I accept. It gives me pleasure to be enrolled in your most gallant company, and, by my troth, I will serve you right well." Middleton looked at him in amazement, and Bill Breakstone broke into a mellow, infectious laugh. "I don’t talk that way all the time," he said. "It merely bursts out in spots. You may not believe it, when you look at me, but I studied for the stage once, and I’ve been an actor. Now and then the old scraps come to the end of my tongue. All’s well that end’s well, and may that be the fate of our expedition." "Come," said Middleton, after telling his own name and that of his friends to Breakstone, "we’ll go to our quarters and make a place for you. Phil and Arenberg are in a room together, and you shall share mine." "Lead on!" said Bill Breakstone. The four left the inn. Bill Breakstone was as poor as he described himself to be. He owned only the worn suit of clothes in which he stood, a pistol, and a pair of saddle bags, seeming to contain some linen, of which he took good care. "Prithee, young sir," he said to Phil, "I would fain guard well the little that I have, because if I lose the little that I have, then what I have shall be nothing. Do I argue well, Sir Ivanhoe?"