ir meal in the corner and to go effusively toward them. "'Arry" was
playing no favorites in his "'ome-coming." "'Arry" was "'appy", and a
little thing like the fact that friends of his enemies were present
seemed to make little difference.

Jovially he leaned over the table of Bozeman and Bill, after he had
displayed himself before Mother Howard and received her sanction of his
selections in dress. Happily he boomed forth the information that
Fairchild and he were back to work the Blue Poppy mine and that they
already had made a trip of inspection.

"I 'm going back this afternoon," he told them. "There 's water in the
shaft. I 've got to figure a wye to get it out."

Then he returned to his table and Fairchild leaned close to him.

"Is n't that dangerous?"

"What?" Harry allowed his eyes to become bulbous as he whispered the
question. "Telling them two about what we 're going to do? Won't they
find it out anyway?"

"I guess that's true. What time are you going to the mine?"

"I don't know that I 'm going. And then I may. I 've got to kind of
sye 'ello around town first."

"Then I 'm not to go with you?"

Harry beamed at him.

"It's your day off, Robert," he announced, and they went on with their
meal.

That is, Fairchild proceeded. Harry did little eating. Harry was too
busy. Around him were men he had known in other days, men who had
stayed on at the little silver camp, fighting against the inevitable
downward course of the price of the white metal, hoping for the time
when resuscitation would come, and now realizing that feeling of joy
for which they had waited a quarter of a century. There were a
thousand questions to be answered, all asked by Harry. There was
gossip to relate and the lives of various men who had come and gone to
be dilated upon. Fairchild finished his meal and waited. But Harry
talked on. Bozeman and Bill left the dining room again to make a
report to the narrow-faced Squint Rodaine. Harry did not even notice
them. And as long as a man stayed to answer his queries, just so long
did Harry remain, at last to rise, brush a few crumbs from his
lightning-like suit, press his new hat gently upon his head with both
hands and start forth once more on his rounds of saying hello. And
there was nothing for Fairchild to do but to wait as patiently as
possible for his return.

The afternoon grew old. Harry did not come back. The sun set and
dinner was served. But Harry w