arrison; knew when I didn't know myself.
But she thought me square. But Waterbury must have said something. I can
never forget her saying when I confessed: 'It's true, then.' I can never
forget that, and the look in her eyes."

"Aye, Waterbury," mused Drake soberly. He eyed Garrison. "You know
he's dead," he said simply. He nodded confirmation as the other stared,
white-faced. "Died this morning after he was thrown. Fractured skull. I
had word. Some right-meaning chap says somewhere something about saying
nothing but good of the dead, kid. If Waterbury tried to queer you, it
was through jealousy. I understand he cared something for Miss Desha.
He had his good points, like every man. Think of them, kid, not the bad
ones. I guess the bookkeeper up above will credit us with all the times
we've tried to do the square, even if we petered out before we'd made
good. Trying counts something, kid. Don't forget that."

"Yes, he had his good points," whispered Garrison. "I don't forget,
Jimmie. I don't forget that he has a cleaner bill of moral health than I
have. I was an impostor. That I can't forget; cannot wipe out."

"I was coming to that," Drake scratched his grizzled head elaborately.
"I didn't say anything when you were unwinding that yarn, kid, but it
sounded mighty tangled to me."

"How?"

"How? Why, we ain't living in fairy-books to-day. It's straight hard
life. And there ain't any fools, as far as I can see, who are allowed to
take up air and space. I've heard of Major Calvert, and his brains were
all there the last time I heard of him--"

"What do you mean?" Garrison bored his eyes into Drake's.

"Why, I mean, kid, that blood is thicker than water, and leave it to
a woman to see through a stone wall. I don't believe you could palm
yourself off to the major and his wife as their nephew. It's not
reasonable nohow. I don't believe any one could fool any family."

"But I did!" Garrison was staring blankly. "I did, Jimmie! Remember I
had the cooked-up proofs. Remember that they had never seen the real
nephew--"

"Oh, shucks! What's the odds? Blood's blood. You don't mean to say a
man wouldn't know his own sister's child? Living in the house with him?
Wouldn't there be some likeness, some family trait, some characteristic?
Are folks any different from horses? No, no, it might happen in stories,
but not life, not life."

Garrison shook his head wearily. "I can't follow you, Jimmie. You like
to argue for the sake