emarked that there was not the
slightest doubt of _his_ being present, winked at me appreciatingly
over the edge of the tumbler, rubbed his paunch slowly with one hand,
and with eyes upcast took another sip of the mixture.

The Virginian to Fitz was a never-ending well of pleasure. The
Colonel's generosity, his almost Quixotic sense of honor, his loyalty
to his friends, his tenderness over Chad and his reverence and love
for that dear Aunt--who had furnished him really with all the ready
money he had spent for years, and who was at the moment caring for the
old place at Cartersville while the Colonel was in New York
endeavoring to float, through Fitz, the bonds of the Cartersville &
Warrentown Railroad--excited not only Fitz's admiration and love, but
afforded the broker the pleasantest of contrasts to the life he led in
the Street, a contrast so delightful that Fitz seldom missed at least
an evening's salutation with him. That not a shovel of earth had yet
been dug on the line of the Colonel's Railroad, and that the whole
enterprise was one of those schemes well nigh impossible to finance,
made no difference to Fitz. He never lost an opportunity to work off
the securities whenever there was the slightest opening. The bonds, of
course, had not been issued; they had never been printed, in fact.
These details would come later,--whenever the capitalist or syndicate
should begin to look into the enterprise in earnest.

Up to the moment when this whirl had caught the Street--an event which
Klutchem acting for his friends had helped--Fitz had never quite given
up the hope that somehow, or in some way, or by some hook or crook,
some deluded capitalist, with more money than brains, would lose both
by purchasing these same "Garden Spots" as the securities of the
Colonel's proposed road were familiarly called in the Street. That but
one single inquiry had thus far ever been made, and that no one of his
or anybody else's customers had ever given them more than a hasty
dismissal, had never discouraged Fitz.

As for the Colonel he was even more sanguine. The dawn of success was
already breaking through the darkness and his hopes would soon be
realized. Hour after hour he would sit by his fire, building fairy
castles in its cheery coals. Almost every night there was a new
picture. In each the big bridge over the Tench was already built,
bearing his double track road to Warrentown and the sea--he could see
every span and pier of it