f it
like Judas. Say, mother, wasn't there a Mrs. Judas Iscariot? She must
have been a busy woman to judge by the size of the Iscariot family."

"Yes," Brooke sighed, "I'm a disillusioned, disappointed man."

I had a curious sense that this actor of life was trying to be real, and
in the attempt he posed.

"Not that I claim," he went on, "that Spite House is anyways holy. It's
not. Of course, a sporting and gambling joint meets a demand, a
regrettable demand, a thing we both abhor and would like to be shut of.
But since demand creates the supply, let's have it in high-toned style,
not run by thugs. That's what I say."

His spacious benevolence seemed to confer partnership, yet to be shocked
at my immoral tendencies.

"However," he sighed, "it's over. It's done with, shoved aside. There
was money in it, but small money, and we pass on. Old Taylor may have
told you that as far back as November we decided, Mrs. Smith and me, to
run the house as a first-class resort for tourists. We bought the Star
Pack-train from Taylor, and the old cargador is making our new
riggings."

This was news indeed!

"Of course pack-trains as such are out of date as Noah's ark, and we've
got to march with the procession. You'll see in this prospectus," he
held out a paper, "well, I'll read it. Let's see--yes--'Forest Lodge,
long under the able management of Mrs. Jesse Smith, with great
experience in' * * * no, it's further on--'Forest Lodge is the natural
center for parties viewing the wondrous wilds.' That should grip them,
eh? 'Experienced guides with pack and saddle animals from the famous
Star _atajo_,' we can't call them mules, of course, 'will escort parties
visiting the sceneries and hunting grounds of the Coast Range, the
Cariboo, the Omenica, the Babine, and the Cassiar.' That ought to
splash!"

Billy had warned me of bad characters settled on the lands toward
Jesse's ranch. Were these Brooke's "experienced guides"?

"Naturally," Brooke folded his prospectus, "the sporting trade had to be
closed right down before the tourist connection took a hold. Millionaire
sportsmen out to spend their dollars, expect to find things just so.
They want recherche meals, and unique decorations, real champagne wine,
and everything 'imported' even when it's made on the spot. They don't
make no hurroar over losing a few thousands at cards, but they just
ain't going to stand seeing Polly laying around drunk on the barroom
floor. I tell you when t