n
bent over him in the light of the flickering slush-lamp, he wrote, with
stiff, uncertain fingers, "Patrick Henry Considine."

CHAPTER XVII. CONSIDINE.

For a few seconds no one spoke. Carew and Gordon stared at the
signature, and then looked at each other. The newly-found Considine
looked at his autograph in a critical way, as if not quite sure he had
spelled it right, and then stood up, handing the deed to Gordon.

"There y'are," he said. "There's my right, title and intrust in all this
here block of land, and all the stock what's on it; and if you're ever
short of a man to look after the place in the wet season I'll take the
job. I might be glad of it."

"I think it's quite likely you won't want any job from me," said
Charlie. "I'll be asking you for a job yet. Are you sure that's your
right name? What was your father?"

"My name? O' course it's my name. My father was billiard-marker at
Casey's Hotel, Dandaloo," said the old man with conscious pride. "A
swell he had been, but the boose done him up, like many a better man.
He used to write to people over in England for money, but they never giv
him any."

"Where did he write to?" asked Carew, looking at the uncouth figure with
intense interest. "Do you know what people he wrote to?"

"Yairs. He wrote to William Considine. That was his father's name. His
father never sent any money, though. Told him to go to hell, I reckon."

"What was your father's name?"

"William Patrick Considine."

Carew dashed out to his saddle, hurriedly unstrapped a valise, and
brought in a small packet of papers.

"Here you are," he said, opening one, and showing it to Gordon.
"Those are the names, Patrick Henry Considine, son of William Patrick
Considine. Entitled under his grandfather's will--by Jove, do you know
there's a lot of money waiting for you in England?"

"There's what?"

"A lot of money left you. In England. Any amount of it. If you are the
right man, you're rich, don't you know. Quite a wealthy man."

"How much money d'you say, Mister?"

"Oh, a great deal. Thousands and thousands. Your grandfather left it. No
one knew for certain where you were, or if you were alive."

"I'm alive all right, I believe," said Considine, staring hard at them.
"But look, Mister--you aren't trying to take the loan of me? Is this
straight?"

"Yes, it's straight," said Charlie. "You'll have to go to England
to make your claim good, I expect. It's straight enough. That's