"Excuse me, but it just occurs to me that you, my dear fellow, possibly lead a solitary life."
"Solitary?" starting as at a touch of divination.
"Yes: in a solitary life one insensibly contracts oddities,—talking to one's self now." (24, 12-14)
Pitch is uber-surprised that Frank can tell he's doing the lone wolf thing. Of course Frank can tell: he's read Pitch's idiosyncrasies like a book. Pitch's isolation signal? Talking to himself. Can't hold it against him. But it is pretty transparent.
"The judge, with his usual judgment, always thought that the intense solitude to which the Indian-hater consigns himself, has, by its overawing influence, no little to do with relaxing his vow. He would relate instances where, after some months' lonely scoutings, the Indian-hater is suddenly seized with a sort of calenture; hurries openly towards the first smoke, though he knows it is an Indian's, announces himself as a lost hunter, gives the savage his rifle, throws himself upon his charity, embraces him with much affection, imploring the privilege of living a while in his sweet companionship." (26, 20)
While we don't have any sympathy for peeps of this kind, apparently even those who've decided to make mortal enemies out of American Indians and devote their lives to solitude get lonely. They get so lonesome for human contact, in fact, that they're willing to put down their weapons and ask for some chitchat. Precious.
The cosmopolitan rose, the traces of previous feeling vanished; looked steadfastly at his transformed friend a moment, then, taking ten half-eagles from his pocket, stooped down, and laid them, one by one, in a circle round him; and, retiring a pace, waved his long tasseled pipe with the air of a necromancer, an air heightened by his costume, accompanying each wave with a solemn murmur of cabalistical words.
Meantime, he within the magic-ring stood suddenly rapt, exhibiting every symptom of a successful charm—a turned cheek, a fixed attitude, a frozen eye; spellbound, not more by the waving wand than by the ten invincible talismans on the floor.
"Reappear, reappear, reappear, oh, my former friend! Replace this hideous apparition with thy blest shape, and be the token of thy return the words, 'My dear Frank.'" (32, 2-4)
Wait. What just happened here? Did he…? Is Frank magic? We know this isn't your cutesy pull-a-rabbit-out-of-your-hat trick. Everything in this scene has the trappings of witchcraft or your average old-school, demon-summoning type incantation. In this case, the "demon" Frank is summoning is the friendlier version of Charlie. Pay close attention to what Frank uses to bring back the confidence-offering Charlie: gold coins.