Chapter X. Meade Burrell Finds a Path in the Moonlight - Page 2

that fourth step?" he demanded, sharply, of Poleon.

"Dere she is," said the Frenchman.

"I'm'damned if it is. You moved it since I was here."

"I'll have 'im put back," laughed the other.

"Say! It's a grand thing to be rich, ain't it?"

"I don' know, I ain' never try it."

"Well, it is; and now that I've arrived, I'm goin' to change my ways complete. No more extravagance in mine--I'll never lend another cent."

"Wat's dat?" ejaculated Doret, in amazement.

"No more hard-luck stories and 'hurry-ups' for mine. I'm the stony- hearted jailer, I am, from now, henceforth, world 'thout end, amen! No busted miners need apply. I've been a good thing, but to-night I turn on the time-lock."

"Ba gosh! You're fonny feller," laughed Poleon, who had lent the one-eyed man much money in the past and, like others, regarded him not merely as a bad risk but as a total loss. "Mebbe you t'ink you've been a spen't'rif all dese year."

"I've certainly blowed a lot of money on my friends," Lee acknowledged, "and they're welcome to what they've got so far, but I'm goin' to chop all them prodigal habits and put on the tin vest. I'll run the solderin'-iron up my seams so they can't get to me without a can-opener. I'm air-tight for life, I am." He fumbled in his pockets and unwrapped a gift cigar, then felt for a match. Poleon tossed one on the bar, and he reached for it twice, missing it each time.

"I guess dose new frien' of yours is mak' you purty full, M'sieu' Tin Vest."

"Nothin" of the sort. I've got a bad dose of indigestion."

"Dat's 'orrible disease! Dere's plaintee riche man die on dat seecknesse. You better lie down."

Doret took the hero of the day by the arm and led him to the rear of the store, where he bedded him on a pile of flour sacks, but he had hardly returned to the bar when Lee came veering out of the dimness, making for the light like a ship tacking towards a beacon.

"What kind of flour is that?" he spluttered.

"Dat's just plain w'eat flour."

"Not on your life," said the miner, with the firmness of a great conviction. "It's full of yeast powders. Why, it's r'arin' and risin' like a buckin' hoss. I'm plumb sea-sick." He laid a zigzag course for the door.

"W'ere you goin'?" asked Poleon.

"I'm goin' to get somethin' for this stomach trouble. It's fierce." He descended into the darkness boldly, and stepped off with confidence--this time too soon. Poleon heard him floundering about, his indignant voice raised irascibly, albeit with a note of triumph.

"Wha'd I tell you? You put it back while I was ashleep." Then whistling