the kind of a man whose word is
literally as good as his bond, and who, to help any man he calls his
friend, would spend his last cent and go hungry the balance of his
life. I've lived round here a good deal in my time and I've seen all
kinds of men, but the greatest compliment I ever had paid me in my
life was when the Colonel offered you yesterday the scrap of paper
that you threw back in his face."

As Fitz talked on Klutchem's tightly knit brows began to loosen. He
hadn't heard such things for a good many years. Life was a scramble
and devil take the hindermost with him. If anybody but Fitz--one of
the level-headed men in the Street--had talked to him thus, he might
not have paid attention, but he knew Fitz was sincere and that he
spoke from his heart. The still water at the bottom of the banker's
well--the water that was frozen over or sealed up, or so deep that few
buckets ever reached it--began to be stirred. His anxiety over
Consolidated only added another length to the bucket's chain.

"Fitzpatrick, I guess you're right. What ought I to do?"

"You ought to go up to his house this very day and beg his pardon, and
then wipe out that idiotic charge you made at the police-station."

"I will, Fitzpatrick."

"You will?"

"Yes."

"There's my hand. Now bring out your Consolidated Smelting, and I'll
do what's decent."

At four o'clock that same day Fitz, with Mr. Klutchem beside him,
swung back the wicket-gate of the tunnel, traversed its gloom, crossed
the shabby yard piled high with snow heaped up by Chad's active
shovel, and rapped at the front door of the little house.

The Colonel was in his chair by the fire. I had just told him the good
news, and he and I were sampling a fresh bottle of the groceryman's
Madeira in celebration of the joyous turn in Fitz's affairs, when Chad
with eyes staring from his head announced:

"Misser Klutchem and Misser Fitzpatrick."

What the old darky thought was coming I do not know, but I learned
afterwards, that as soon as he had closed the door behind the
visitors, he mounted the stairs three steps at a time, grabbed up the
case of pistols from his master's dressing-table, pulled the corks
from their mouths, and hurrying down laid the case and its contents on
the hall table to be ready for instant use.

The announcement of Klutchem's name brought the Colonel to his feet as
straight as a ramrod.

"It's all right, Colonel," said Fitz, noting the color rise in his
fri