“I was like the little boy who didn’t go to the party—­I wasn’t asked.”  The speaker’s expression showed that his pride had been hurt and discouraged further questioning.  “We’ll hire our men and our boats to-night,” he announced.  “I’ve arranged for that freighter to drop us off at Omar on her way out.  We’ll have to row from there to Kyak.  I expected to land my horses at the coast and pack in from Kyak Bay, but that shipwreck changed my plans.  Poor brutes!  After my experience I’ll never swim horses in this water again.”

An eleven-o’clock twilight enveloped Cortez when the two men landed, but the town was awake.  The recent railway and mining activity in the neighborhood had brought a considerable influx of people to King Phillip Sound, and the strains of music from dance-hall doors, the click of checks and roulette balls from the saloons, gave evidence of an unusual prosperity.

O’Neil had no difficulty in securing men.  Once he was recognized, the scenes at Hope were re-enacted, and there was a general scramble to enlist upon his pay-roll.  Within an hour, therefore, his arrangements were made, and he and Tom repaired to Callahan’s Hotel for a few hours’ sleep.

A stud game was going on in the barroom when they entered, and O’Neil paused to watch it while Slater spoke to one of the players, a clean-cut, blond youth of whimsical countenance.  When the two friends finally faced the bar for their “nightcap” Tom explained: 

“That’s Appleton, the fellow Gordon fired to-day.  I told him I’d left the old man flat.”

“Is he a friend of yours?”

“Sure.  Nice boy—­good engineer, too.”

“Umph!  That game is crooked.”

“No?” “Happy Tom” displayed a flash of interest.

“Yes, Cortez is fast becoming a metropolis, I see.  The man in the derby hat is performing a little feat that once cost me four thousand dollars to learn.”

“I’d better split Dan away,” said Tom, hastily.

“Wait!  Education is a good thing, even if it is expensive at times.  I fancy your friend is bright enough to take care of himself.  Let’s wait a bit.”

“Ain’t that just my blamed luck?” lamented Slater.  “Now if they were playing faro I could make a killing.  I’d ‘copper’ Appleton’s bets and ‘open’ the ones he coppered!”

O’Neil smiled, for “Happy Tom’s” caution in money matters was notorious.  “You know you don’t believe in gambling,” he said.

“It’s not a belief, it’s a disease,” declared the fat man.  “I was born to be a gambler, but the business is too uncertain.  Now that I’m getting so old and feeble I can’t work any more, I’d take it up, only I broke three fingers and when I try to deal I drop the cards.  What are we going to do?”

“Just wait,” said O’Neil.

VI

THE DREAMER

Unobserved the two friends watched the poker game, which for a time proceeded quietly.  But suddenly they saw Appleton lean over the table and address the man with the derby hat; then, thrusting back his chair, he rose, declaring, in a louder tone: