es. I MAKE 'em.
Hand me over a check for ten millions and call it square, and work it
for yourself.' So Capital hands over the money and waltzes down to run
the mine, and you original locators walks round with yer hands in yer
pockets a-top of your six million profit, and you let's Capital take the
work and the responsibility."

Preposterous as this seemed from the lips of Whiskey Dick, Christie
had a haunting suspicion that it was not greatly unlike the theories
expounded by the clever young banker who had been her escort. She did
not interrupt his flow of reminiscent criticism; when he paused for
breath, she said, quietly:

"I met Mr. George Kearney the other day in the country."

Whiskey Dick stopped awkwardly, glanced hurriedly at Christie, and
coughed behind his handkerchief.

"Mr. Kearney--eh--er--certengly--yes--er--met him, you say. Was
he--er--er--well?"

"In health, yes; but otherwise he has lost everything," said Christie,
fixing her eyes on the embarrassed Dick.

"Yes--er--in course--in course--" continued Dick, nervously glancing
round the apartment as if endeavoring to find an opening to some less
abrupt statement of the fact.

"And actually reduced to take some menial employment," added Christie,
still regarding Dick with her clear glance.

"That's it--that's just it," said Dick, beaming as he suddenly found his
delicate and confidential opportunity. "That's it, Miss Christie; that's
just what I was sayin' to the boys. 'Ez it the square thing,' sez I,
'jest because George hez happened to hypothecate every dollar he has,
or expects to hev, to put into them works, only to please Mr. Carr, and
just because he don't want to distress that intelligent gentleman by
letting him see he's dead broke--for him to go and demean himself and
Devil's Ford by rushing away and hiring out as a Mexican vaquero
on Mexican wages? Look,' sez I, 'at the disgrace he brings upon a
high-toned, fash'nable girl, at whose side he's walked and danced, and
passed rings, and sentiments, and bokays in the changes o' the cotillion
and the mizzourka. And wot,' sez I, 'if some day, prancing along in a
fash'nable cavalcade, she all of a suddents comes across him drivin' a
Mexican steer?' That's what I said to the boys. And so you met him, Miss
Christie, as usual," continued Dick, endeavoring under the appearance
of a large social experience to conceal an eager anxiety to know the
details--"so you met him; and, in course, you didn't