But I tells him that the commodore was snug in his berth up yonder, and with that he looks to me like I wus a lady.

I've seen him in Swan's at night readin'; allus chasin' butterflies when he sees 'em in the street." And the captain rounded out this period by touching his forehead as a subtle hint that in his opinion the foreigner carried no ballast.
In the intervening time the subject of this light suggestion was climbing the hill with that tireless resiliant step of one born to mountains.

No task appeared visibly to weary this man.

Small as he was, his bones were as strong and his muscles as stringy as a wolf's.
If the butterfly was worth while he would follow till it fell to his net or daylight withdrew its support.

Never he lost patience, never his smile faltered, never his mild spectacled eyes wavered.