"'He's not an animal at all,' our hero gently corrected. 'He's a biped, a regular wild biped without either love of home or affection for his children. The salmon is of a low order of intelligence, and has a Queen Anne slant to his roof. No person with a retreating forehead like that knows very much. The only other member of the animal kingdom that is as foolish as the salmon is Alton Clyde. The fish has got a shade the best of it over him; but as for friendship and the gentler emotions--why, the salmon hasn't got them at all. The only thing he's got is a million eggs and a sense of direction. If he had a spark of intelligence he'd lay one egg a year, like a hen, and thus live for a million years. But does he? Not on your Sarony! He's a spendthrift, and turns his eggs loose--a hatful at a time. He's worse than a shotgun. And then, too, he's as clannish as a Harvard graduate, and don't associate with nobody out of his own set. No, sir! Give me a warm-blooded animal that suckles its young. I'll take a farmer, every time.' "'These are points I had never considered,' said Mr. Emerson, 'but every business has its drawbacks, you'll agree. If I have failed as a host, what can I do to entertain you while you grace our midst?' "'You can do most anything,' remarked his handsome companion, 'You can climb a tree, or do anything except fish all the time.' "'But it is a dark night without, and I fear some mischief is afoot!' "'True! But yonder beautcheous gel--'" Roused by the familiarity of these lines, Emerson looked up from his preoccupation and smiled at Fraser's serious pantomime. "Am I as bad as all that?" he inquired, with an effort at pleasantry. "You're worse, Bo! I guess you didn't know I was here, eh?" "No. By-the-way, what about that 'beautcheous gel and the mischief that is afoot? What is the rest of the story?" "I don't know. I never got past that place. Say! If I had time, I'll bet I could write a good book. I've got plenty to say." "Why don't you try it?" "Too busy!" yawned the adventurer, lazily. "Gee, this is a lonesome burg! Kalvik is sure out in the tall grass, ain't it? I feel as if I'd like to break a pane of glass. Let's start something." "I don't find it particularly dull at the present moment." Boyd rose and began to pace the room. "Oh, I heard all about your trouble. I just left the pest-house." "The what?" "The pest-house--Clyde's joint. Ain't he a calamity?" "In what way?" "Is there any way in which he ain't?" "You don't like him, do you?" "No, I don't," declared "Fingerless" Fraser stoutly, "and what's more I'm glad I don't like him. Because if I liked him, I'd associate with him, and I hate him." "What's the matter?"