ent seemed feasible or
possible.

"How much will make your account good?" he asked after a pause.

"About ten thousand dollars."

Jack leaned forward in his chair. "Ten thousand dollars!" he exclaimed
in a startled tone. "Why, Garry--how in the name of common-sense did you
get in as deep as that?"

"Because I was a damned fool!"

Again there was silence, during which Garry fumbled for a match, opened
his case and lighted a cigarette. Then he said slowly, as he tossed the
burnt end of the match from him:

"You said something, Jack, about some of your friends helping. Could Mr.
MacFarlane?"

"No,--he hasn't got it,--not to spare. I was thinking of another kind of
help when I spoke. I supposed you had got into debt, or something, and
were depending on your commissions to pull you out, and that some new
job was hanging fire and perhaps some of us could help as we did on the
church."

"No," rejoined Garry, in a hopeless tone, "nothing will help but a
certified check. Perhaps your Mr. Grayson might do something," he
continued in the same voice.

"Uncle Peter! Why, Garry, he doesn't earn ten thousand dollars in three
years."

Again there was silence.

"Well, would it be any use for you to ask Arthur Breen? He wouldn't give
me a cent, and I wouldn't ask him. I don't believe in laying down
on your wife's relations, but he might do it for you now that you're
getting up in the world."

Jack bent his head in deep thought. The proposal that his uncle had
made him for the ore lands passed in review. At that time he could have
turned over the property to Breen. But it was worthless now. He shook
his head:

"I don't think so." Then he added quickly--"Have you been to Mr.
Morris?"

"No, and won't. I'd die first!" this came in a sharp, determined voice,
as if it had jumped hot from his heart.

"But he thinks the world of you; it was only a week ago that he told Mr.
MacFarlane that you were the best man he ever had in his office."

"Yes,--that's why I won't go, Jack. I'll play my hand alone and take
the consequences, but I won't beg of my friends; not a friend like Mr.
Morris; any coward can do that. Mr. Morris believes in me,--I want him
to continue to believe in me. That's worth twenty times ten thousand
dollars." His eyes flashed for the first time. Again the old Garry shone
out.

"When must you have this money?"

"By the end of the week,--before next Monday, anyhow."

"Then the situation is not hopeless?"