"Then I'll tell you what I'll do: You go to work and dig up my fee, and I'll go down to southern California with you on the jerkline job. I been wantin' to get outa Frisco for a week, but couldn't raise the price. Anywhere'll suit me, where there's a chance o' makin' a little stake. That's what you wanta do--go to work and make a stake. Then look about for something you c'n float for yourself. There's nothin' in working for somebody else. Work for yourself if it's only running a peanut stand. Southern California'll do. What d'ye say?" "D'ye mean you're broke?" "Broke! I'm ruined!" "How did you lose your money?" Hiram asked innocently. "You're askin' for the story o' my life. What d'ye say, now? Le's go to work and get breakfast, then enter Morgan & Stroud's in our usual graceful manner and tell 'em we've decided to accept their kind offer and let 'em ship us south. You'll probably learn a few things on that trip." "Are you a jerkline skinner?" "I dunno. Maybe I am. I never tried. But if that's what you wanta hit--me, too. Say, what's your name?" "Hiram Hooker." "That's a peach, all right. They sure labeled you for the part. Mine ain't much better though. They call me Twitter-or-Tweet." "What!" "Proves I'm a bird, don't it? My name is Orr Tweet. Can you beat it? So they call me Twitter-or-Tweet, or just Twitter--or sometimes Playmate. I'm gregarious. I gotta have a partner all the time. I'll play with any o' the little boys so long as they're nice to me." He handed Hiram a card. It read: ORR TWEET REPRESENTING THE CUCAMONGA DEVELOPMENT COMPANY Cerro Gordo, Mexico THE HOMESEEKERS' PROMISED LAND OF MILK AND HONEY "That Cucamonga Development Company and the milk-and-honey business is passe," explained Mr. Tweet, "but I've got no other card. They pinched the owners, and I flew the coop before they could lay it onto me. Crooked deal." "What was it?" Hiram asked vaguely. "Banana plantation," Tweet replied lightly. "At least they called it that--I never saw it. I was just promotin' the deal. Well, what d'ye say?" he persisted. "I'm broke and I need a little cash. But I'm a money getter! You tide me over this little depression and I'll remember you. We may strike somethin' that'll look good anywhere between here and there. If so, we'll drop off and look into it." Hiram did not know what to say. He had no experience in reading human nature, and Mr. Tweet would have appeared as an enigma to many more astute than Hiram. "What do you want me to do?" he hedged. "Hold me up, if your coin lasts, till I hit the ball--that's all. You'll never regret it." Tweet sat pulling his twisted nose from side to side, as if trying to straighten it. "But I don't understand. You seem to be--that is, you call yourself a capitalist, and you're only--I mean it seems funny----"