ood while ago that there's not much to live
for. This is an old idea, I know, but at some time it is new to every
man. We fight off trouble that we may fight into more trouble. And our
only pleasure is in looking back upon a past that was full of trouble,
or in looking forward to a time that will never come."

"You're a queer sort of a duck, anyhow," Blakemore replied, throwing the
stub of a cigar out into the grass. "You must have been burnt sometime.
And yet you're no doubt looking for the fire again."

"Did you ever catch a bass with his mouth full of rusty hooks? I'm
one--hooks sticking out all around, but I must have something to eat,
and I may snap a phantom minnow."

"Yes, sir, you're a queer duck. But there's a lot of good stuff in you,
I'll tell you that; and I could take you in tow and make a winner of
you. Drop this farm and come to town."

Milford smiled and shook his head. "Winning looks easy to the man that
wins. No, when I leave this place I'll have my object in my pocket."

"Queer duck," Blakemore repeated. "Any insanity in your family?"

"No, none to speak of. My father took the bankrupt law and paid his
debts ten years afterwards."

Blakemore lighted a cigar. "Did you disown him?"

"No. He went to the springs, grew pale--and we buried him."

Blakemore turned his cigar about between his lips. "And your idea is to
pay your debts, grow pale, and let them bury you. Is that it?"

"Not exactly," and then he added: "I owe a peculiar sort of debt."

"A man's foolish to pay a peculiar debt," Blakemore replied.

"But a peculiar debt might take a strange hold on the conscience."

"Yes," Blakemore agreed, "but a tender conscience has no more show in
business than a peg leg has in a foot-race. Do you know what I did? I
moped about under a debt of twenty thousand dollars. After a while I
looked up and didn't see anybody else moping. I quit. Am I going to pay
it? Maybe, but not till the last cow has come home, I'll tell you that.
They scalped me, and I'm going to scalp them. By the way, I met a fellow
just now--fellow named Dorsey. You might have seen him out here. Met him
a while ago, and he told me that a horse kicked him over yonder in the
woods. Didn't do a thing but kick his teeth out. He's gone to town to
have his jaw attended to. Your horse?"

"No, a horse that Dorsey hired when he was out some time ago. He must
have misused him."

"He got in his work all right. Well, I've come after you. They