r him.

--"The Yukoner."

CHAPTER I

"No, no, I'm all right. Really I am. Please leave me alone. You want me
to laugh? Ha! Ha! There! Is that all right now?"

"No, it isn't all right. It's very far from all right, my boy; and this
is where you and your little uncle here are going to have a real heart
to heart talk."

It was in the big cabin on Gold Hill, and the Prodigal was addressing
me. He went on:

"Now, look here, kid, when it comes to expressing my feelings I'm in the
kindergarten class; when it comes to handing out the high-toned dope I
drop my cue every time; but when I'm needed to do the solid pardner
stunt then you don't need to holler for me--I'm there. Well, I'm giving
you a straight line of talk. Ever since the start I've taken a strong
notion to you. You've always been ace-high with me, and there never will
come the day when you can't eat on my meal-ticket. We tackled the Trail
of Trouble together. You were always wanting to lift the heavy end of
the log, and when the God of Cussedness was doing his best to rasp a man
down to his yellow streak, you showed up white all through. Say, kid,
we've been in tight places together; we've been stacked up against hard
times together: and now I'll be gol-darned if I'm going to stand by and
see you go downhill, while the devil oils the bearings."

"Oh, I'm all right," I protested.

"Yes, you're all right," he echoed grimly. "In an impersonation of an
'all-right' man it's the hook for yours. I've seen 'all-right' men like
you hitting the hurry trail for the boneyard before now. You're 'all
right'! Why, for the last two hours you've been sitting with that
'just-break-the-news-to mother' expression of yours, and paying no more
heed to my cheerful brand of conversation than if I had been a measly
four-flusher. You don't eat more than a sick sparrow, and often you
don't bat an eye all night. You're looking worse than the devil in a
gale of wind. You've lost your grip, my boy. You don't care whether
school keeps or not. In fact, if it wasn't for your folks, you'd as lief
take a short cut across the Great Divide."

"You're going it a little strong, old man."

"Oh no, I'm not. You know you're sick of everything. Feel as if life's a
sort of penitentiary, and you've just got to do time. You don't expect
to get any more fun out of it. Look at me. Every day's my sunshine day.
If the sky's blue I like it; if it's grey I like it just as well. I
never worry. What