Harrigan raised his hand.

"So help me God--" he began.

"Wait!" broke in McTee. "Don't say it. Suppose we get off the island,
and when we reach port find one thing which we both want. What then?"

Harrigan remembered a word from the Bible.

"I'll never covet one of your belongin's, McTee, an' I'll never cross
your wishes."

"Your hair is red, Harrigan, and mine is black; your eye is blue and
mine is black. We were made to want the same thing in different ways.
I've never met my mate before. I can stand it here on the rim of the
world--but in the world itself--what then, Harrigan?"

They stepped apart, and the glance of the black eye crossed that of the
cold blue.

"Ah-h, McTee, are ye dark inside and out? Is the black av your eye the
same as the soot in your heart?"

"Harrigan, you were born to fight and forget; I was born to fight and
remember. Well, I take no oath, but here's my hand. It's better than
the oath of most men."

"A strange fist," grinned Harrigan; "soft in the palm and hard over the
knuckles--like mine."