“You are,” said the Captain, speaking firm. “With Tomlin out of the way, you think this girl can be consoled by being Mrs. Farwell. Am I some guesser?” “You discuss your own business. Not mine.” “Sure. You’ve got what they call the upper hand.” “I have.” The Captain was a man of decision; very firm, too. “How’s the best way to go about it to keep Tomlin quiet?” “Knife him.” “All thought out!” said Billy, admiringly. “Yes. Here’s a knife. Don’t leave it lying around. If you do I shall swear you stole it from me.” “I’ll bring it back to you.” “You’ll do it then?” “I’ll come to the _Petrel_ in the mornin’ and say a nigger done it.” “That’s right. Don’t fail me. It’ll go hard with you.” “I believe you,” said Billy, as the Captain turned away and walked back toward the beach. Billy, grinning thoughtfully, went up to the house. Through the doorway he could see Tomlin with his elbows on the table, his hands in his hair, sitting amid his troubles. The lantern hanging from a beam made him look like a great grotesque image carved from teak. Billy climbed over the doorway. “Billy--” Tomlin said anxiously, ready to ask questions. Billy did not answer, but started gathering up his few belongings, and making a great show of that. “Billy, what are you doing?” No answer, but much rummaging. “Billy, have you gone crazy?” “Nope.” “What are you doing?” “I’m movin’.” “Moving? What’s the matter?” “I got _pride_,” said Billy. “Pride? What on earth is the matter with you?” Then Billy told him. That is Billy explained how he had landed on the beach and been living on Tomlin’s charity, and he simply couldn’t stand it any more. His pride wouldn’t let him stand it. He was going back in the bush and hunt berries and bugs of his own. “But Billy--are you crazy? I’ve done nothing for you. I’ve liked you--I want you to stay.” “Nope. I got _pride_!” “You idiot!” Tomlin cried, jumping up, his strained nerves at the breaking point. “Who’s an idiot?” “You are. All this means nothing to me. I’m glad to share it with you. Anything--everything. I like you--and you--you--” “--then why don’t you marry her?” Billy cut in. Tomlin’s face went blank as the palm of his hand. “What does all that mean to her? She just wants to share it with you. And you got pride. Aw, you just want her to coax and beg.” “Look here--what are you talking about?” Tomlin demanded. “See this knife,” said Billy, flourishing the long, cold blade. “Well--” and Billy told him everything. A few hours later Tomlin was talking like a happy child and trying to shave while Billy sat at the table painfully trying to write a note. Tomlin knocked over a shelf of pickled lizards. “Look out!” Billy exclaimed. “To hell with ’em!” said Tomlin. “A missionary to--” “I’ve thought out my letter of resignation,” said Tomlin. Billy finished his note and put it in his pocket, saying: “I’ll rout out some niggers and you come about fifteen minutes after me. Meantime I got to kill a chicken.”