“You may laugh, boys,” said Barker, with simple seriousness; “but I really believe I have got ’em yet.  Just wait.  I’ll see!” He rose and began to drag out a well-worn valise from under his bunk.  “You see,” he continued, “they were given to me by an old chap in return—­”

“For saving his life by delaying the Stockton boat that afterward blew up,” returned Demorest briefly.  “We know it all!  His hair was white, and his hand trembled slightly as he laid these shares in yours, saying, and you never forgot the words, ’Take ’em, young man—­and’—­”

“For lending him two thousand dollars, then,” continued Barker with a simple ignoring of the interruption, as he quietly brought out the valise.

“Two thousand dollars!” repeated Stacy.  “When did you have two thousand dollars?”

“When I first left Sacramento—­three years ago,” said Barker, unstrapping the valise.

“How long did you have it?” said Demorest incredulously.

“At least two days, I think,” returned Barker quietly.  “Then I met that man.  He was hard-up, and I lent him my pile and took those shares.  He died afterward.”

“Of course he did,” said Demorest severely.  “They always do.  Nothing kills a man more quickly than an action of that kind.”  Nevertheless the two partners regarded Barker rummaging among some loose clothes and papers with a kind of paternal toleration.  “If you can’t find them, bring out your government bonds,” suggested Stacy.  But the next moment, flushed and triumphant, Barker rose from his knees, and came toward them carrying some papers in his hands.  Demorest seized them from him, opened them, spread them on the table, examined hurriedly the date, signatures, and transfers, glanced again quickly at the newspaper paragraph, looked wildly at Stacy and then at Barker, and gasped: 

“By the living hookey! it is so!”

“B’gosh! he has got ’em!” echoed Stacy.

“Twenty shares,” continued Demorest breathlessly, “at ten thousand dollars a share—­even if it’s only a foot—­is two hundred thousand dollars!  Jerusalem!”

“Tell me, fair sir,” said Stacy, with sparkling eyes, “hast still left in yonder casket any rare jewels, rubies, sarcenet, or links of fine gold?  Peradventure a pearl or two may have been overlooked!”

“No—­that’s all,” returned Barker simply.

“You hear him!  Rothschild says ‘that’s all.’  Prince Esterhazy says he hasn’t another red cent—­only two hundred thousand dollars.”

“What ought I to do, boys?” asked Barker, timidly glancing from one to the other.  Yet he remembered with delight all that day, and for many a year afterward, that he saw in their faces only unselfish joy and affection at that supreme moment.

“Do?” said Demorest promptly.  “Stand on your head and yell!  No! stop!  Come here!” He seized both Barker and Stacy by the hand, and ran out into the open air.  Here they danced violently with clasped hands around a small buckeye, in perfect silence, and then returned to the cabin, grave but perspiring.