What had impressed him during the brief breakfast was the sort of
awe in which Anson and Big Bill stood of Charles. Once, during the
morning, while Anson took a breathing spell after bringing in
another hundred-pound pack, Tarwater delicately hinted his
impression.

"You see, it's this way," Anson said. "We've divided our
leadership. We've got specialities. Now I'm a carpenter. When we
get to Lake Linderman, and the trees are chopped and whipsawed into
planks, I'll boss the building of the boat. Big Bill is a logger
and miner. So he'll boss getting out the logs and all mining
operations. Most of our outfit's ahead. We went broke paying the
Indians to pack that much of it to the top of Chilcoot. Our last
partner is up there with it, moving it along by himself down the
other side. His name's Liverpool, and he's a sailor. So, when the
boat's built, he's the boss of the outfit to navigate the lakes and
rapids to Klondike.

"And Charles--this Mr. Crayton--what might his speciality be?"
Tarwater asked.

"He's the business man. When it comes to business and organization
he's boss."

"Hum," Tarwater pondered. "Very lucky to get such a bunch of
specialities into one outfit."

"More than luck," Anson agreed. "It was all accident, too. Each
of us started alone. We met on the steamer coming up from San