The Three Partners | Page 7

you here that could do that without any such useless preliminary." His
brown eyes rested for a moment on Steptoe, but turning quite abruptly
to Van Loo, he held out his hand. Startled and embarrassed before the
others, the young man at last advanced his, when Jack coolly put his
own, as if forgetfully, in his pocket. "I thought you might like to know
what that little brother of yours is doing," he said to Van Loo, yet
looking at Steptoe. "I found him wandering about the Hill here quite
drunk."
"I have repeatedly warned him"--began Van Loo, reddening.
"Against bad company--I know," suggested Jack gayly; "yet in spite of
all that, I think he owes some of his liquor to Steptoe yonder."
"I never supposed the fool would get drunk over a glass of whiskey
offered in fun," said Steptoe harshly, yet evidently quite as much
disconcerted as angry.
"The trouble with Steptoe," said Hamlin, thoughtfully spanning his slim
waist with both hands as he looked down at his polished shoes, "is that
he has such a soft-hearted liking for all weaknesses. Always wanting to
protect chaps that can't look after themselves, whether it's Whiskey
Dick there when he has a pull on, or some nigger when he's made a
little strike, or that straying lamb of Van Loo's when he's puppy drunk.
But you're wrong about me, boys. You can't draw me in any game
to-night. This is one of my nights off, which I devote exclusively to
contemplation and song. But," he added, suddenly turning to his three
hosts with a bewildering and fascinating change of expression, "I
couldn't resist coming up here to see you and your pile, even if I never
saw the one or the other before, and am not likely to see either again. I
believe in luck! And it comes a mighty sight oftener than a fellow
thinks it does. But it doesn't come to stay. So I'd advise you to keep
your eyes skinned, and hang on to it while it's with you, like grim death.
So long!"

Resisting all attempts of his hosts--who had apparently fallen as
suddenly and unaccountably under the magic of his manner--to detain
him longer, he stepped lightly away, his voice presently rising again in
melody as he descended the hill. Nor was it at all remarkable that the
others, apparently drawn by the same inevitable magnetism, were
impelled to follow him, naturally joining their voices with his, leaving
Steptoe and Van Loo so markedly behind them alone that they were
compelled at last in sheer embarrassment to close up the rear of the
procession. In another moment the cabin and the three partners again
relapsed into the peace and quiet of the night. With the dying away of
the last voices on the hillside the old solitude reasserted itself.
But since the irruption of the strangers they had lost their former
sluggish contemplation, and now busied themselves in preparation for
their early departure from the cabin the next morning. They had
arranged to spend the following day and night at Boomville and
Carter's Hotel, where they were to give their farewell dinner to Heavy
Tree Hill. They talked but little together: since the rebuff his
enthusiastic confidences had received from Van Loo, Barker had been
grave and thoughtful, and Stacy, with the irritating recollection of Van
Loo's criticisms in his mind, had refrained from his usual rallying of
Barker. Oddly enough, they spoke chiefly of Jack Hamlin,--till then
personally a stranger to them, on account of his infelix reputation,--and
even the critical Demorest expressed a wish they had known him before.
"But you never know the real value of anything until you're quitting it
or it's quitting you," he added sententiously.
Barker and Stacy both stared at their companion. It was unlike
Demorest to regret anything--particularly a mere social diversion.
"They say," remarked Stacy, "that if you had known Jack Hamlin
earlier and professionally, a great deal of real value would have quitted
you before he did."
"Don't repeat that rot flung out by men who have played Jack's game
and lost," returned Demorest derisively. "I'd rather trust him than"-- He
stopped, glanced at the meditative Barker, and then concluded abruptly,
"the whole caboodle of his critics."

They were silent for a few moments, and then seemed to have fallen
into their former dreamy mood as they relapsed into their old seats
again. At last Stacy drew a long breath. "I wish we had sent those
nuggets off with the others this morning."
"Why?" said Demorest suddenly.
"Why? Well, d--n it all! they kind of oppress me, don't you see. I seem
to feel 'em here, on my chest--all the three," returned Stacy only half
jocularly. "It's their d----d specific gravity, I suppose. I don't like the