rom that gold-mine, and at two in the morning
Curly Jim acknowledged himself beaten. One by one he led his helpless
guests across the kitchen floor and thrust them outside. O'Brien came
last, and the three, with arms locked for mutual aid, titubated gravely
on the stoop.

"Good business man, Curly," O'Brien was saying. "Must say like your
style--fine an' generous, free-handed hospital . . . hospital . . .
hospitality. Credit to you. Nothin' base 'n graspin' in your make-up.
As I was sayin'--"

But just then the faro dealer slammed the door.

The three laughed happily on the stoop. They laughed for a long time.
Then Mucluc Charley essayed speech.

"Funny--laughed so hard--ain't what I want to say. My idea is . . . what
wash it? Oh, got it! Funny how ideas slip. Elusive idea--chasin'
elusive idea--great sport. Ever chase rabbits, Percy, my frien'? I had
dog--great rabbit dog. Whash 'is name? Don't know name--never had no
name--forget name--elusive name--chasin' elusive name--no, idea--elusive
idea, but got it--what I want to say was--O hell!"

Thereafter there was silence for a long time. O'Brien slipped from their
arms to a sitting posture on the stoop, where he slept gently. Mucluc
Charley chased the elusive idea through all the nooks and crannies of his
drowning consciousness. Leclaire hung fascinated upon the delayed
utterance. Suddenly the other's hand smote him on the back.

"Got it!" Mucluc Charley cried in stentorian tones.

The shock of the jolt broke the continuity of Leclaire's mental process.

"How much to the pan?" he demanded.

"Pan nothin'!" Mucluc Charley was angry. "Idea--got it--got leg-hold--ran
it down."

Leclaire's face took on a rapt, admiring expression, and again he hung
upon the other's lips.

" . . . O hell!" said Mucluc Charley.

At this moment the kitchen door opened for an instant, and Curly Jim
shouted, "Go home!"

"Funny," said Mucluc Charley. "Shame idea--very shame as mine. Le's go
home."

They gathered O'Brien up between them and started. Mucluc Charley began
aloud the pursuit of another idea. Leclaire followed the pursuit with
enthusiasm. But O'Brien did not follow it. He neither heard, nor saw,
nor knew anything. He was a mere wobbling automaton, supported
affectionately and precariously by his two business associates.

They took the path down by the bank of the Yukon. Home did not lie that
way, but the elusive idea did. Mucluc Charley gigg