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236
The Aryan
He spoke with tense seriousness, but without raising his voice.
There followed a free-for-all tussle in which Steve came off second best. Trixie had come to him afterward, as he sat at a table nursing an aching head, and had called him her hero ; and, more, she had brought Chip Emmett over, and Steve and he solemnly shook hands and celebrated the reconciliation with more drinks, in which the Firefly joined.
In the best of temper, then, Steve insisted upon buying drinks for everybody. Painted women and thirsty men fluttered about him — fluttered about him for the next day and the next week — and he lost all sense of time and duty and honor till a full month had £one by and his last bit of gold dust had been squeezed from his money belt. Then, sober, but .dazed and unstrung, they flung him out.
"Git I" said Ivory Wells. "When you make your next pile, call again.''
And obediently Steve walked from the dance hall. As he breathed in the
clear air, a sense of what had happened came to him, startled him. A month of his life gone like a puff of wind. And the gold he had spent three years searching for — gone, too! And his
mother
The thought of her stunned him. He remembered that Wells had brought him a letter from her — which he had been too drunk to read and which he had stupidly torn into pieces. He remembered, too, that some time during the debauch a telegram had been handed to him and he had thrust it in his money belt under a momentary impression that it was important. Fearfully he explored the belt, empty save for a bit of crumpled yellow paper — the telegram. With shaking hands, he tore open the envelope. It was dated two weeks ago and stated briefly :
Your mother died this morning at five o'clock. Jake Cairns.
Steve staggered against the wall of a building, a broken man. Pictures