Natalie gave a little tinkling laugh. She recognized in this man the melancholy hero of more than one tale "The Irish Prince" had told her. Murray did his best, but knowing "Happy Tom's" calm obstinacy of old, he had no real hope of persuading him. "You see how it is," he said, finally. "He's been with me for years and he refuses to work for any one else while I'm around. If I don't take him with me he'll follow." Mr. Slater nodded vigorously, then imparted these tidings: "It's getting late, and my feet hurt." He bowed to the women, then lowered himself ponderously yet carefully over the edge of the dock and into the leather cushions of the launch. Once safely aboard, he took a package of wintergreen chewing-gum from his pocket and began to chew, staring out across the sound with that placid, speculative enjoyment which reposes in the eyes of a cow at sunset. Curtis Gordon's face was red and angry as he shook hands stiffly with his guest and voiced the formal hope that they would meet again. "I'm glad to be gone," Slater observed as the speed-boat rushed across the bay. "I'm a family man, and--I've got principles. Gordon's got neither." "It was outrageous for you to walk out so suddenly. It embarrassed me." "Oh, he'd let me go without notice if he felt like it. He fired Dan Appleton this afternoon just for telling the truth about the mine. That's what I'd have got if I'd stayed on much longer. I was filling up with words and my skin was getting tight. I'd have busted, sure, inside of a week." "Isn't the mine any good?" "It ain't a mine at all. It's nothing but an excavation filled with damn fools and owned by idiots; still, I s'pose it serves Gordon's purpose." After a pause he continued: "They tell me that snakes eat their own young! Gordon ought to call that mine the Anaconda, for it'll swallow its own dividends and all the money those Eastern people can raise." "I'm sorry for Mrs. Gerard." Slater emitted a sound like the moist exhalation of a porpoise as it rises to the surface. "What do you mean by that snort?" asked Murray. "It's funny how much some people are like animals. Now the ostrich thinks that when his head is hid his whole running-gear is out of sight. Gordon's an ostrich. As for you--you remind me of a mud turtle. A turtle don't show nothing but his head, and when it's necessary he can yank that under cover. Gordon don't seem to realize that he sticks up above the underbrush--either that or else he don't care who sees him. He and that woman--" "Never mind her," exclaimed O'Neil, quickly. "I'm sure you're mistaken." Mr. Slater grunted once more, then chewed his gum silently, staring mournfully into the twilight. After a moment he inquired: "Why don't you show these people how to build a railroad, Murray?" "No, thank you! I know the country back of here. It's not feasible." "The Copper Trust is doing it."