His smile brought Hiram's chair closer. "How d'ye get any o' these jobs?" he asked. "Part with two dollars to Morgan & Stroud for the address o' the advertiser, then beat the other fella to it," was the reply. "But they wanted a hundred muckers, you read." "Oh, that's different. They ship you out for two dollars to where the job is. The contractor deducts your fare from your first month's pay and refunds it to the railroad company, or sticks it in his pocket if he's wise. Le's see--where they shippin'?" He glanced at the column again. "N' Mexico, eh? Yes, they'll ship you down there for two dollars, and you c'n go to work and grow up with the country. C'n you drive a team?" "Sure," said Hiram. "I c'n drive eight or ten, or even sixteen jerkline, too. You read something about jerkline skinners." "Then I'd go as a jerkline skinner at--what is it?--fifty-five and found. Found means board, you know." "And you're sure they'll send me down to southern California for two dollars and gi' me a job drivin' mules?" "They'll be tickled to death to do it. Where you from?" Hiram heaved a sigh. "Mendocino County," he replied. "Hittin' the trail for the first time, eh?" The questioner evidently knew it, so Hiram did not reply. "M'm-m! Fine big country--Mendocino. You oughta stayed there. That country'll go to work and come out with a loud report some day." "You've been there?" asked Hiram eagerly. "Been everywhere." "What do you follow?" Hiram used the new expression almost unconsciously. "I'm a promoter and capitalist." "A promoter and capitalist," Hiram repeated vaguely. "Yep. At present, though, I ain't workin' at the capitalist end. But I'm always a promoter." Hiram was growing uncomfortable. He had been warming toward this genial stranger; now he felt he was being ridiculed. He kept silent and looked out the window. The other nonchalantly resumed his paper as if the conversation were over. But Hiram did not wish it to end here. Despite the stranger's fantastic statement, there was that in his bearing which told Hiram he meant what he said, and that, furthermore, it was with him a matter of indifference whether any one believed him or not. He wished the two tramps would leave. He felt that then he could talk to the other man with less reserve. As he sat there silently thinking, this wish was granted. A third unkempt individual thrust his head in at the door and remarked, "Hey, youse!" The cribbage players looked up. In explanation the man in the door held up a quarter between a calloused forefinger and thumb. A broad grin broke on the face of one of the players as he scraped back his chair and rose. "Cheese, Thumbscrew, where'd youse glom it?" he gasped ecstatically. "Never mind w'ere I glommed it, Scully," was the retort. "De point is, are youse guys in on helpin' me lick up a growler?"