ale, and--school's out and the band's going to play and
the game begin. And get down from your broncho, you graven image!"
Here Brown pulled Kalman headlong from his horse. "And Jack will
perform. I have not been mad like this for a thousand years. I have
been in Hades for the last month, and now I'm out! I know I am quite
mad, but it's fine while it lasts. Now, Jack, the curtain's up. Let
the play proceed."

The story was simple enough. Immediately after the discovery of the
mine French had arranged with Mr. Robert Menzies that he should make
application with the Department of the Interior at Ottawa for the
necessary mining rights. The application had been made, but the
Department had failed to notify the local agent.

"So," said Jack, "the mine is yours again, Kalman."

"No," said Kalman, "not mine, ours; yours as much as mine,
Jack, or not mine at all."

"And the Company!" yelled Brown. "Tell him about the Company.
Let the play proceed."

"Oh," said French, with an air of indifference, "Mr. Menzies has
a company all organized and in his pocket, waiting only approval
of the owner of the mine."

"And the party will arrive in about three weeks, I think you said,
French," remarked Brown, with a tone of elaborate carelessness.

Kalman's face flushed hot. The eyes of both men were upon him.

"Yes, in about three weeks," replied French.

"If it were not that I am constitutionally disinclined to an active
life, I should like to join myself," said Brown; "for it will be a
most remarkable mining company, if I know anything of the signs."

But Kalman could not speak. He put his arm around Jack's shoulder,
saying, "You are a great man, Jack. I might have known better."

"All right, boy," said Jack. "From this time we shall play the man.
Life is too good to lose for nothing. A mine is good, but there are
better things than mines."

"Meaning?" said Brown.

"Men!" said Jack with emphasis.

"_And_," shouted Brown, slipping his arm round his wife, "women."

"Brown," said Jack solemnly, "as my friend Pierre Lamont would say,
'you have reason.'"

CHAPTER XVIII

FOR FREEDOM AND FOR LOVE

The hut of the Nihilist Portnoff stood in a thick bluff about
midway between Wakota and the mine, but lying off the direct line
about two miles nearer the ranch. It was a poor enough shack,
made of logs plastered over with mud, roofed with poplar poles,
sod, and earth. The floor was of earth, the walls were whitewashed,