They kept insisting to each other that they had no higher intention.  They were hilarious over their failures and they persisted in taking even their successes humorously.  At first the “short-stake men” drifted away, but presently they began to drift back again.  They liked it at Wander,—­liked being mildly and tolerantly controlled by men of their own sort,—­men with some vested authority, however, and a reawakened perception of responsibility.  Wander was their town—­the hoboes’ own city.  It was one of the few places where something was expected of the hobo.  Well, a hobo was a man, wasn’t he?  The point was provable.  A number of Karl Wander’s vagrants chose to prove that they were not reprobates.  Those who had been “down and out” by their own will, or lack of it, as well as those whom misfortune had dogged, began to see in this wild village, in the heart of these rich and terrific mountains, that wonderful thing, “another chance.”

“Would Miss Barrington approve of us now?” Karl would sometimes ask Honora.

“Why should she?” Honora would retort.  “We’re not in earnest.  We’re only fighting bankruptcy and ennui.”

“That’s it,” declared Karl.  “By the way, I must scrape up some more capital somewhere, Honora.  I’ve borrowed everything I could lay my hands on in Denver.  Now I’ve written to some Chicago capitalists about my affairs and they show a disposition to help me out.  They’ll meet in Denver next week.  Perhaps I shall bring them here.  I’ve told them frankly what my position was.  You see, if I can swing things for six months more, the tide will turn.  Do you think my interesting rabble will stick to me?”

“Don’t count on them,” said Honora.  “Don’t count on anybody or anything.  But if you like to take your chance, do it.  It’s no more of a gamble than anything else a Colorado man is likely to invest in.”

“You don’t think much of us Colorado men, do you, my cousin?”

“I don’t think you are quite civilized,” she said.  Then a twinge of memory twisted her face.  “But I don’t care for civilized men.  I like glorious barbarians like you, Karl.”

“Men who are shot at from behind bushes, eh?  If I ever have to hide in a cave, Honora, will you go with me?”

“Yes, and load the guns.”

He flashed her a curious look; one which she could not quite interpret.  Was he thinking that he would like her to keep beside him?  For a second, with a thrill of something like fear, this occurred to her.  Then by some mysterious process she read his mind, and she read it aright.  He was really thinking how stirring a thing life would seem if he could hear words like that from the lips of Kate Barrington.

XXVII

It had been a busy day for Honora.  She had been superintending the house-cleaning and taking rather an aggressive part in it herself.  She rejoiced that her strength had come back to her, and she felt a keen satisfaction in putting it forth in service of the man who had taken her into community of interest with him when, as he had once put it, she was bankrupted of all that had made her think herself rich.