"Now," said Brent, "I'll just bet a full cargo that you're off to the
Planters' House, and smoke an El Sol with the boys."

Mr. Grant nodded. "You're keen, Captain," said he.

"I've got something here that'll outlast an El Sol a whole day,"
continued Captain Breast, tugging at his pocket and pulling out a
six-inch cigar as black as the night. "Just you try that."

The Captain instantly struck a match on his boot and was puffing in a
silent enjoyment which delighted his friend.

"Reckon he don't bring out cigars when you make him a call," said the
steamboat captain, jerking his thumb up at the house. It was Mr. Jacob
Cluyme's.

Captain Grant did not reply to that, nor did Captain Lige expect him to,
as it was the custom of this strange and silent man to speak ill of no
one. He turned rather to put the stakes back into his wagon.

"Where are you off to, Lige?" he asked.

"Lord bless my soul," said Captain Lige, "to think that I could forget!"
He tucked a bundle tighter under his arm. "Grant, did you ever see my
little sweetheart, Jinny Carvel?" The Captain sighed. "She ain't little
any more, and she eighteen to-day."

Captain Grant clapped his hand to his forehead.

"Say, Lige," said he, "that reminds me. A month or so ago I pulled a