The Argosy, Vol. 76, No. 3 — page 80: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

650 Good living and lack of exercise had doubled his girth since the prospecting days with Bremerton. His walk was the cautious, flat-footed waddle of the fat man, although he carried it off with a touch of distinction. All in all, he was a most impressing spectacle. It was plain that he knew it, and equally plain that he liked it. His money had brought with it power and influence, and no man was more in the Western lime-light. The reporters for three different newspapers had reached him ahead of Bremerton. They wanted interviews. “Blamed if I can travel a dozen miles out of Denver without having a bunch of you cimarrons tight at my heels,” he complained good-naturedly. “ Now, boys, I haven’t a pesky thing for you to put in the papers. Maybe I’ll have news for you before I leave. If I have, I promise to herd you all together, treat every one fair, and not play favorites. Try one of these, will you, and just forget I’m in town till I’m ready to loosen up.” He drew a silver-mounted cigar- case from the breast of his coat and offered it around. Then he caught sight of Bremerton. “Howdy, pard!” he cried, break- ing away from the newspapermen, dropping his satchel and grabbing the tall, gaunt figure in corduroys with both hands. . “ You done it, by thunder, and ’way this side of the six months! Lee, you're the clear quill. Looking finer’n silk, too. What did I say, huh? Did I know what I was doing, or didn’t I? Where’s a cab? Let’s go to the hotel and sit in at the chuck-table. I’m hungrier’n a Ute squaw on govern- ment rations.” Bremerton picked up the satchel, Deane hooked arms with him, and they went on to the waiting line of carriages. A little later they were be- ing hurried to the best hotel in town, Deane talking effusively and giving his friend no chance for a word. There was the plaza, same old THE ARGOSY. court-house plaza, where he and Bremerton had sat in the shade years ago, wondering where they would strike for next. Yes, and, by gorry, there was the same identical umbrella tree they had sat under. Didn’t it beat all how the old times came back? Below the corner of First Avenue was the wall of the town corral where they had kept their burros; and say— wouldn’t it rattle your spurs?—right there was Coffee Al’s, where they had spent many a quarter for grub. Good grub, too; better grub than any Deane had ever had since —or, anyhow, it tasted better. “T guess it’s a sure-enough fact, Lee,” philosophized Deane, “ that the more money you got to spend for things, the less you appreciate ’em. Oh, them sure was good days!” The mining king sat back into his coat and relapsed into a mood of flab- by and morbid reminiscence. He came out of it shortly and dropped a fat, friendly hand on Bremerton’s knee. “Why don’t you tune up, old part- ner?” he asked. “I don’t reckon you've peeped since we got together.” The recollection of old times, when Deane was different and a comrade worth having, had wrenched hard at the purpose Bremerton had in mind. He brushed the feeling aside and looked into his friend’s face with a smile. “f’ve been holding my tongue and listening to you, Silas,” he answered. “Not much chance for me to put in a word when you get started.” “ That’s right, I guess that’s right,” and Deane chuckled. “ This is a regu- lar picnic for me. Old scenes, old. friends, and a pot of money into the bargain. Enough to make a fellow grow young and feel his oats, eh?” They got down at the hotel and Deane handed the black bag to a wait- ing boy. “Careful with that, son,” he warned. ‘“ There’s two pint bottles of old Scotch in that grip, and if any- thing happens: to ’em I’m ruined.” COMicdoo S CO@