on being themselves. But I would never make much
trouble. Why can't they let me alone, damn it! I'd never hurt
anybody, except, perhaps----"

"Except your old gentleman, eh?" Eastman laughed. "Seriously,
Cavenaugh, if you want to shake him, I think a year on a ranch would
do it. He would never be coaxed far from his favorite haunts. He
would dread Montana."

Cavenaugh pursed up his lips. "So do I!"

"Oh, you think you do. Try it, and you'll find out. A gun and a
horse beats all this sort of thing. Besides losing your haunt, you'd
be putting ten years in the bank for yourself. I know a good ranch
where they take people, if you want to try it."

"Thank you. I'll consider. Do you think I'm batty?"

"No, but I think you've been doing one sort of thing too long. You
need big horizons. Get out of this."

Cavenaugh smiled meekly. He rose lazily and yawned behind his hand.
"It's late, and I've taken your whole evening." He strolled over to
the window and looked out. "Queer place, New York; rough on the
little fellows. Don't you feel sorry for them, the girls especially?
I do. What a fight they put up for a little fun! Why, even that old
goat is sorry for them, the only decent thing he kept."

Eastman followed him to the door and stood in the hall, while
Cavenaugh waited for the elevator. When the car came up Cavenaugh
extended his pink, warm hand. "Good night."

The cage sank and his rosy countenance disappeared, his round-eyed
smile being the last thing to go.

* * * * *

Weeks passed before Eastman saw Cavenaugh again. One morning, just
as he was starting for Washington to argue a case before the Supreme
Court, Cavenaugh telephoned him at his office to ask him about the
Montana ranch he had recommended; said he meant to take his advice
and go out there for the spring and summer.

When Eastman got back from Washington, he saw dusty trunks, just up
from the trunk room, before Cavenaugh's door. Next morning, when he
stopped to see what the young man was about, he found Cavenaugh in
his shirt sleeves, packing.

"I'm really going; off to-morrow night. You didn't think it of me,
did you?" he asked gaily.

"Oh, I've always had hopes of you!" Eastman declared. "But you are
in a hurry, it seems to me."

"Yes, I am in a hurry." Cavenaugh shot a pair of leggings into one
of the open trunks. "I telegraphed your ranch people, used your
name, and they said it would be all right. By the way