"'That sort of puzzled me, and I pussyfooted along toward the Inlet
thinkin' about it. If a man was a tanner, and especially a foreign,
hand-workin' tanner, what would his markin's be?
"'I tried to remember everybody that I'd ever seen handlin' a hide, and
all at once I recollected that the first thing a dago shoemaker done
when he picked up a piece of leather was to smooth it out with his
thumbs. An' I said to myself, now that'll be what a tanner does, only he
does it more ... he's always doing it. Then I asks myself what would be
the markin's?'
"The hobo paused, his mouth open, his head twisted to one side. Then he
jerked up as under a released spring.
"'And right away, Governor, I got the answer to it--flat thumbs!'
"The hobo stepped back with an air of victory and flashed his hand up.
"'And he had 'em! I asked him what time it was so I could keep the hour
straight for McDuyal, I told him, but the real reason was so I could see
his hands.'"
Walker crossed one leg over the other.
"It was clever," he said, "and I hesitated to shatter it. But the
question had to come.
"'Where is your man?' I said.
"The hobo executed a little deprecatory step, with his fingers picking
at his coat pockets.
"'That's the trouble, Governor,' he answered; 'I intended to sleuth him
for you, but he give me a dollar and I got drunk ... you saw me. That
man had got out at McDuyal's place not five minutes before. I was
flashin' to the booze can when you tried to stop me.
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