The Three Partners | Page 3

if the night were their only guest, and had
been waiting on the threshold to now enter bodily and pervade all
things with its presence. With that cool, fragrant inflow of air they
breathed freely. The red edge had gone from Black Spur, but it was
even more clearly defined against the sky in its towering blackness.
The sky itself had grown lighter, although the stars still seemed mere
reflections of the solitary pin-points of light scattered along the concave
valley below. Mingling with the cooler, restful air of the summit, yet
penetratingly distinct from it, arose the stimulating breath of the pines
below, still hot and panting from the day-long sun. The silence was
intense. The far- off barking of a dog on the invisible river-bar nearly a
mile beneath them came to them like a sound in a dream. They had
risen, and, standing in the doorway, by common consent turned their
faces to the east. It was the frequent attitude of the home-remembering
miner, and it gave him the crowning glory of the view. For, beyond the
pine-hearsed summits, rarely seen except against the evening sky, lay a
thin, white cloud like a dropped portion of the Milky Way. Faint with

an indescribable pallor, remote yet distinct enough to assert itself above
and beyond all surrounding objects, it was always there. It was the
snow-line of the Sierras.
They turned away and silently reseated themselves, the same thought in
the minds of each. Here was something they could not take away,
something to be left forever and irretrievably behind,--left with the
healthy life they had been leading, the cheerful endeavor, the undying
hopefulness which it had fostered and blessed. Was what they WERE
taking away worth it? And oddly enough, frank and outspoken as they
had always been to each other, that common thought remained
unuttered. Even Barker was silent; perhaps he was also thinking of
Kitty.
Suddenly two figures appeared in the very doorway of the cabin. The
effect was startling upon the partners, who had only just reseated
themselves, and for a moment they had forgotten that the narrow band
of light which shot forth from the open door rendered the darkness on
either side of it more impenetrable, and that out of this darkness,
although themselves guided by the light, the figures had just emerged.
Yet one was familiar enough. It was the Hill drunkard, Dick Hall, or, as
he was called, "Whiskey Dick," or, indicated still more succinctly by
the Hill humorists, "Alky Hall."
Everybody had seen that sodden, puffy, but good-humored face;
everybody had felt the fiery exhalations of that enormous red beard,
which always seemed to be kept in a state of moist, unkempt luxuriance
by liquor; everybody knew the absurd dignity of manner and attempted
precision of statement with which he was wont to disguise his frequent
excesses. Very few, however, knew, or cared to know, the pathetic
weariness and chilling horror that sometimes looked out of those
bloodshot eyes.
He was evidently equally unprepared for the three silent seated figures
before the door, and for a moment looked at them blankly with the
doubts of a frequently deceived perception. Was he sure that they were
quite real? He had not dared to look at his companion for verification,
but smiled vaguely.

"Good-evening," said Demorest pleasantly.
Whiskey Dick's face brightened. "Good-evenin', good-evenin'
yourselves, boys--and see how you like it! Lemme interdrush my ole
frien' William J. Steptoe, of Red Gulch. Stepsho--Steptoe--is shtay--ish
stay--" He stopped, hiccupped, waved his hand gravely, and with an air
of reproachful dignity concluded, "sojourning for the present on the Bar.
We wish to offer our congrashulashen and felish--felish--" He paused
again, and, leaning against the door- post, added severely, "--itations."
His companion, however, laughed coarsely, and, pushing past Dick,
entered the cabin. He was a short, powerful man, with a closely
cropped crust of beard and hair that seemed to adhere to his round head
like moss or lichen. He cast a glance--furtive rather than curious around
the cabin, and said, with a familiarity that had not even good humor to
excuse it, "So you're the gay galoots who've made the big strike?
Thought I'd meander up the Hill with this old bloat Alky, and drop in to
see the show. And here you are, feeling your oats, eh? and not caring
any particular G-d d--n if school keeps or not."
"Show Mr. Steptoe--the whiskey," said Demorest to Stacy. Then
quietly addressing Dick, but ignoring Steptoe as completely as Steptoe
had ignored his unfortunate companion, he said, "You quite startled us
at first. We did not see you come up the trail."
"No. We came up the back trail to please Steptoe, who wanted to see
round the cabin," said Dick, glancing nervously yet with a forced