"Dinkie Dawson, if you please," said Ginger. "Why, I used to punch his head fearful. He did my ciphering at school--an' now--an' now----!" Ginger was overcome by emotion. "But if a mug like Dink--yes, mark you, a _mug_ can earn big money, I'm sort of thinkin' _that_ puts it right up to William Herbert Jukes, Esquire." The eyes of the Sailor glowed like stars in the light of the fire. It was almost as if he had heard the flutter of the wings of destiny. As a boy of nine flying shoeless and stockingless through the icy mud of Blackhampton, bawling, "Result of the Cup tie," he had felt deep in his heart the first stab of ambition. One day he would help the Rovers bring the Cup to his native city. That was no more than a dream. The Rovers were heroes and supermen--not that Henry Harper was able to formulate them in terms of psychological accuracy. And here was Ginger, a new and very remarkable friend, whom fate had thrown across his path, seated within three yards of him, setting his soul on fire. "Why not?" There was no fire in the soul of Ginger. His voice was arctic cold, but the purpose in it was deadly. "If a guy like Dink, why not me?" A slight pause. "And if Ginger Jukes, who is five foot six an' draws the beam at eleven stun in his birthday suit, why not Mr. Enery Arper?" And Ginger looked across at the Sailor almost with pity. The heart of the Sailor began to thump violently. And there came something soft and large in his throat. "How tall are you, Sailor? Six foot?" The eye of an expert traversed the finely turned form. "Thereabouts." "What's your fighting weight in the buff?" "Dunno." "Ought to know to a bounce. But it don't matter. You'll thicken. How old next birthday?" "Nineteen." "That's a good age. Wish I was. I'm one and twenty." The Sailor thought he looked more. "I'm a lot more in some things," said Ginger. "But at football I shall not be one and twenty until the middle o' Janawerry." The Sailor was a little out of his depth. There was a subtlety about Ginger that went far beyond anything he had ever met. Even Klondyke, great man as he was, seemed a mere child by comparison with this forcible thinker. "Nineteen is just the age," said Ginger, "to learn to chuck yerself about. But I dare say you know how to do that, having follered the sea." "I can climb a bit," the Sailor admitted with great modesty. "Can yer jump?" The Sailor could jump a bit too. "Could you throw yerself at the ball like a rattlesnake if you see it fizzing for the fur corner o' the net?" The Sailor's modesty could not hazard an opinion on a matter of such technical complexity. "I expect so," said Ginger, with a condescension that was most agreeable. "You are just the build for a goalkeeper. If it's fine tomorrow dinner-hour, we'll put you through your paces on Cox's Piece. I'm thinkin', Enery, you and me will soon be out after that four quid. Anyhow, I'll answer for Mr. W. H."