"Then what did you bust loose and tell me about 'em for? They
wan't any of MY business, was they?"

"No-o. That's why I spoke of 'em."

"What? You spoke of 'em 'cause they wan't any of my business?"

"Ye-es . . . I thought maybe--" He paused, turned the sailor over
in his hand, whistled a few more bars of the dirge and then
finished his sentence. "I thought maybe you might like to ask
questions about 'em," he concluded.

Mr. Bearse stared suspiciously at his companion, swallowed several
times and, between swallows, started to speak, but each time gave
it up. Mr. Winslow appeared quite oblivious of the stare. His
brushes gave the wooden sailor black hair, eyes and brows, and an
engaging crimson smile. When Gabriel did speak it was not
concerning names.

"Say, Jed," he cried, "HAVE you heard about Cap'n Sam Hunniwell?
'Bout his bein' put on the Exemption Board?"

His companion went on whistling, but he nodded.

"Um-hm," grunted Gabe, grudgingly. "I presumed likely you would
hear; he told you himself, I cal'late. Seth Baker said he see him
come in here night afore last and I suppose that's when he told
you. Didn't say nothin' else, did he?" he added, eagerly.

Again Mr. Winslow nodded.