Well, there's another yarn, and it's mine; I'm goin' to spin it and I want you to listen." He went on to spin his yarn.

It was practically a repetition of his reply to Tad Simpson that morning.

Its conclusion was also much the same.
"The land ain't worth fifty dollars," he declared, "but if it was fifty million he shouldn't have it.

Why?
Because it belongs to that little girl.

And he shan't have her until he and those back of him have hammered me through the courts till I'm down forty fathom under water.
And when they do get her--and, to be honest, I cal'late they will in the end--I hope to God I won't be alive to see it! There! I've answered you." He was walking up and down the room, with the old quarter-deck stride, his hands jammed deep in his pockets and his face working with emotion.
"It's pretty nigh a single-handed fight for me," he continued, "but I've fought single-handed before.