In reply he rolled up his sleeve and bared a mighty arm. Where the
vaccination scar usually is I saw a red patch, like a burn. I leaned
over and examined it. It was a four-pointed scar, with a perfect
circle around it. Somehow, it seemed to me that this was not the first
time I had seen this peculiar mark. I did not recollect ever seeing it
on Max's arm. Where had I seen it, then?
"It looks like a burn," I ventured to suggest.
"It is. I wish I knew what it signifies. Scharfenstein said that it
was positively fresh when he found me. He said I cried a good deal and
kept telling him that I was Max. Maybe I'm an anarchist and don't know
it,"--with half a smile.
"It's a curious scar. Hang me, but I've seen the device somewhere
before!"
"You have?"--eagerly. "Where, where?"
"I don't know; possibly I saw it on your arm in the old days."
He sank back in his chair. Silence, during which the smoke thickened
and the pup whined softly in his sleep. Out upon the night the
cathedral bell boomed the third hour of morning.
"If you don't mind, Artie," said Max, yawning, "I'll turn in. I've
been traveling for the past fortnight."
"Take a ride on Dandy in the morning. He'll hold your weight nicely.
I can't go with you, as I've a lame ankle."
"I'll be in the saddle at dawn. All I need is a couple of hours
between sheets."
As I prodded my pillow into a comfortable wad under my cheek I wondered
where I had seen that particular brand. It was a brand. I knew that I
had seen it somewhere, but my memory danced away when I endeavored to
halter it. Soon I fell asleep, dreaming of somebody who wasn't Max
Scharfenstein, by a long shot.