h on
grasping its abstruse questions, as the faculty of picking out its soft
snaps! But he's a poverty stricken beggar, and I wish him luck."

The old gentleman's eyes twinkled as he observed Brent's gloom. It had
an effect of pleasing him, and he banteringly advanced another moral
axiom:

"There are worse misfortunes than being poor!"

"That may be, Colonel," he sighed. "I'm not familiar with all the
tortures. Anyway, I'll bury the issue, along with my nose, in the
delectable juleps Timmie is bringing."

"You must have caught her eye," the old gentleman smiled, watching her
waddle through the hall with an inviting tray.

"Or Miss Liz is taking a nap," the other suggested, raising one of the
frosted goblets. "Here's to the gratification of your merest whim, sir!"

Both drank a swallow, and then sat upright staring at each other in
amazement.

"God bless my soul!" the Colonel gasped, "what is this stuff?"

"It tastes like raspberry juice," Brent answered, warily taking another
sip. "But it's sort of good--it's real good!"

The old gentleman gingerly sipped it now, and then once more, while his
lips made the soft smacking noise of taste on an investigation.

"By Godfry, it is good," he wagged his head convincingly. "It's mighty
good, sir!--er--perhaps Lizzie was not asleep, after all!"

After a few moments of contented silence--when Aunt Timmie had tiptoed
back to the kitchen and was relating to Miss Liz the success of their
undertaking--the Colonel asked:

"How is the road coming on?"

A month earlier Brent would have evaded this subject, but now his eyes
sparkled with pleasure.

"Bully! I've been able to make speed by the fortunate possession of a
hand map by Thruston--that super-accurate geologist, metallurgist and
engineer who tramped every foot of these mountains twenty-five years
ago--and it's making things easy. We've nothing to equal it, even
today!"

"Do you know," the Colonel slapped his knee, "I have suspected you were
slipping out oftener of late! I've been missing my niggers!--and was
going to tell Jane about it!"

"Don't," Brent said seriously, "I want--I just had an idea, that maybe
it would be nice to finish up for--well, about the time of her birthday
this summer. So, if you've noticed any especial activity, you'll have to
respect my confidence."

"Why, sir, I call that handsome, sir!" he cried. "Ladies might not
object to birthdays if cavaliers laid railroads at their feet! Tell me