As Fitz talked on Klutchem's tightly knit brows began to loosen. He hadn't heard such things for a good many years. Life was a scramble and devil take the hindermost with him. If anybody but Fitz--one of the level-headed men in the Street--had talked to him thus, he might not have paid attention, but he knew Fitz was sincere and that he spoke from his heart. The still water at the bottom of the banker's well--the water that was frozen over or sealed up, or so deep that few buckets ever reached it--began to be stirred. His anxiety over Consolidated only added another length to the bucket's chain. "Fitzpatrick, I guess you're right. What ought I to do?" "You ought to go up to his house this very day and beg his pardon, and then wipe out that idiotic charge you made at the police-station." "I will, Fitzpatrick." "You will?" "Yes." "There's my hand. Now bring out your Consolidated Smelting, and I'll do what's decent." At four o'clock that same day Fitz, with Mr. Klutchem beside him, swung back the wicket-gate of the tunnel, traversed its gloom, crossed the shabby yard piled high with snow heaped up by Chad's active shovel, and rapped at the front door of the little house. The Colonel was in his chair by the fire. I had just told him the good news, and he and I were sampling a fresh bottle of the groceryman's Madeira in celebration of the joyous turn in Fitz's affairs, when Chad with eyes staring from his head announced: "Misser Klutchem and Misser Fitzpatrick." What the old darky thought was coming I do not know, but I learned afterwards, that as soon as he had closed the door behind the visitors, he mounted the stairs three steps at a time, grabbed up the case of pistols from his master's dressing-table, pulled the corks from their mouths, and hurrying down laid the case and its contents on the hall table to be ready for instant use. The announcement of Klutchem's name brought the Colonel to his feet as straight as a ramrod. "It's all right, Colonel," said Fitz, noting the color rise in his friend's face. "Mr. Klutchem and I have settled all our differences. He has just offered me a barrel of Consolidated, and at my own price. That fight's all over, and I bear him no grudge. As to yourself, he has come up to tell you how sorry he is for what occurred yesterday, and to make any reparation to you in his power." Klutchem had not intended to go so far as that, and he winced a little under Fitz's allusion to the "barrel," but he was in for it now, and would follow Fitz's lead to the end. Then again, the papers in the Consolidated matter would not be signed until the morning. "Yes, Carter, I'm sorry. Fact is, I misunderstood you. I was very busy, you remember, and I'm sorry, too, for what occurred at the police-station; that, however, you know I couldn't help." The omission of the Virginian's title scraped the skin from the Colonel's _amour propre_, but the words "I'm sorry" coming immediately thereafter healed the wound.