"I reckon Redruth waits about nine year expecting her to send him a note by a nigger asking him to forgive her. But she don''t. ''This game won''t work,'' says Redruth; ''then so won''t I.'' And he goes in the hermit business and raises whiskers. Yes; laziness and whiskers was what done the trick. They travel together. You ever hear of a man with long whiskers and hair striking a bonanza? No. Look at the Duke of Marlborough and this Standard Oil snoozer. Have they got ''em?
"Now, this Alice didn''t never marry, I''ll bet a hoss. If Redruth had married somebody else she might have done so, too. But he never turns up. She has these here things they call fond memories, and maybe a lock of hair and a corset steel that he broke, treasured up. Them sort of articles is as good as a husband to some women. I''d say she played out a lone hand. I don''t blame no woman for old man Redruth''s abandonment of barber shops and clean shirts."
Next in order came the passenger who was nobody in particular. Nameless to us, he travels the road from Paradise to Sunrise City.