ustn't forget to give you YOUR Christmas, old
man, and I've got it right here with me." He took the folded envelope
from his pocket, and, holding it in his hand with his elbow on the
table, continued, "I don't mind telling you what idea I had in giving
you what I'm goin' to give you now. I've been thinking about it for a
day or two. A man like you don't want money--you wouldn't spend it. A
man like you don't want stocks or fancy investments, for you couldn't
look after them. A man like you don't want diamonds and jewellery, nor
a gold-headed cane, when it's got to be used as a crutch. No, sir.
What you want is suthin' that won't run away from you; that is always
there before you and won't wear out, and will last after you're gone.
That's land! And if it wasn't that I have sworn never to sell or give
away this house and that garden, if it wasn't that I've held out agin
the old woman and Mamie on that point, you should have THIS house and
THAT garden. But, mebbee, for the same reason that I've told you, I
want that land to keep for myself. But I've selected four acres of the
hill this side of my shaft, and here's the deed of it. As soon as
you're ready, I'll put you up a house as big as this--that shall be
yours, with the land, as long as you live, old man; and after that your
children's."

"No; not theirs!" broke in the old man, passionately. "Never!"

Mulrady recoiled for an instant in alarm at the sudden and unexpected
vehemence of his manner, "Go slow, old man; go slow," he said,
soothingly. "Of course, you'll do with your own as you like." Then,
as if changing the subject, he went on cheerfully: "Perhaps you'll
wonder why I picked out that spot on the hillside. Well, first, because
I reserved it after my strike in case the lead should run that way, but
it didn't. Next, because when you first came here you seemed to like
the prospect. You used to sit there looking at it, as if it reminded
you of something. You never said it did. They say you was sitting on
that boulder there when you had that last attack, you know; but," he
added, gently, "you've forgotten all about it."

"I have forgotten nothing," said Slinn, rising, with a choking voice.
"I wish to God I had; I wish to God I could!"

He was on his feet now, supporting himself by the table. The subtle
generous liquor he had drunk had evidently shaken his self-control, and
burst those voluntary bonds he had put upon himself for the last six
mont