change of expression, “I couldn’t resist coming up here to see you and your pile, even if I never saw the one or the other before, and am not likely to see either again.  I believe in luck!  And it comes a mighty sight oftener than a fellow thinks it does.  But it doesn’t come to stay.  So I’d advise you to keep your eyes skinned, and hang on to it while it’s with you, like grim death.  So long!”

Resisting all attempts of his hosts—­who had apparently fallen as suddenly and unaccountably under the magic of his manner—­to detain him longer, he stepped lightly away, his voice presently rising again in melody as he descended the hill.  Nor was it at all remarkable that the others, apparently drawn by the same inevitable magnetism, were impelled to follow him, naturally joining their voices with his, leaving Steptoe and Van Loo so markedly behind them alone that they were compelled at last in sheer embarrassment to close up the rear of the procession.  In another moment the cabin and the three partners again relapsed into the peace and quiet of the night.  With the dying away of the last voices on the hillside the old solitude reasserted itself.

But since the irruption of the strangers they had lost their former sluggish contemplation, and now busied themselves in preparation for their early departure from the cabin the next morning.  They had arranged to spend the following day and night at Boomville and Carter’s Hotel, where they were to give their farewell dinner to Heavy Tree Hill.  They talked but little together:  since the rebuff his enthusiastic confidences had received from Van Loo, Barker had been grave and thoughtful, and Stacy, with the irritating recollection of Van Loo’s criticisms in his mind, had refrained from his usual rallying of Barker.  Oddly enough, they spoke chiefly of Jack Hamlin,—­till then personally a stranger to them, on account of his infelix reputation,—­and even the critical Demorest expressed a wish they had known him before.  “But you never know the real value of anything until you’re quitting it or it’s quitting you,” he added sententiously.

Barker and Stacy both stared at their companion.  It was unlike Demorest to regret anything—­particularly a mere social diversion.

“They say,” remarked Stacy, “that if you had known Jack Hamlin earlier and professionally, a great deal of real value would have quitted you before he did.”

“Don’t repeat that rot flung out by men who have played Jack’s game and lost,” returned Demorest derisively.  “I’d rather trust him than”—­He stopped, glanced at the meditative Barker, and then concluded abruptly, “the whole caboodle of his critics.”

They were silent for a few moments, and then seemed to have fallen into their former dreamy mood as they relapsed into their old seats again.  At last Stacy drew a long breath.  “I wish we had sent those nuggets off with the others this morning.”

“Why?” said Demorest suddenly.