"Must 'a' begun wantin' then when he was a baby," remarked Hank succinctly. "Where's his ma and pa?" Wishing shrugged his shoulders and balanced a quantity of pork and potatoes on the blade of his knife. "Search me! He says there's no one to hender him doin' what he pleases, and so I take it he's dropped out of some fairy orphanage som'ers where they have gold t' burn. I'm fallin' on his neck more'n I'm askin' him questions that he don't want t' answer. Less is an all right sort, you'll find, but he ain't long on information." At this point Wishing's garrulity suffered an interruption from the entrance of his young partner. Leslie Jones walked with the erect bearing that Aunt Anne coveted for Ross. Buttoning his short corduroy jacket over a soft flannel shirt, across the front of which was suspended a large gold chain, he ran his fingers around inside his collar and looked about impatiently. Ross, attending strictly to his work, did not look up. Hank, sitting on a bench opposite Wilson, spread his elbows yet further apart on the table and indicated a place beside him. "Set down and fall to, young feller!" "I'll wash up first," returned Leslie in a tone which had a decided edge. His manner plainly indicated his desire to be waited on. Hank raised his eyebrows and waved a hand vaguely toward the stove. "There's pans 'n' water. Help yerself. Guess there's a towel hikin' about som'ers in the corner. My dozen best handmade 'uns ain't come in yet from the laundry!" Every one laughed except Weston and Leslie. The former breathed regularly, apparently unconscious of all that was said and done in the room. The latter flushed, and plunging into the corner tumbled the pans about angrily like a spoiled child, spilling as much water on the floor as he could. Then he sat down beside his partner and asked shortly for some hot coffee, with an emphasis on the adjective. Hank leisurely pushed the coffee-pot across the table. "Help yerself. This was hot a spell ago and will be again at supper time." Hank's voice having acquired an edge by this time, "Victory's youngest" poured the coffee angrily but wordlessly into his thick cup and ate in silence, listening to Wilson, who was too much occupied with a vision of riches to come to allow such scenes to disturb his equanimity. "As I told Less," he went on, raising his voice to drown opposition, "we'll leave part of the sticks and the grub up the canon to the coal claims and then when it comes winter and the mountains are impassable, we'll just strike the trail over from the Creek to the canon and work the coal till things open up in the spring. That Creek is a mean place to drop into this late." "What Creek?" asked Ross, suddenly awakening to the conversation. "Meadow Creek," returned Wishing. "That's where Doc is bound fer, Wishing'," volunteered Hank. "Doc is come out t' help Jake Weimer."