“You unfortunate man! Carey, my late friend, Mr. Hennage, used to say that it was good policy to overlook a losing bet once in a while, rather than copper everything in sight. Your crime was a terrible mistake, Carey. For twenty years you've realized that and you've suffered for it. I'm sorry for you--so sorry that I'm going to use your ill-gotten gains for a good purpose. Come up into Owens valley three years from now and I'll prove it to you. Good-day.” “One moment, McGraw. Don't go for a minute or two. I--I'd like to believe that what you say is true, but the trouble is--you see, McGraw, I have never encountered your point of view heretofore. Tell me, McGraw--don't lie to me--do you feel the slightest desire to see me suffer, or is this--er--brotherly-love talk of yours plain buncombe?” Bob McGraw advanced toward the man he had beaten. He held out his hand. “I try to be a man” he said--“to be too big to hate and put myself on a level with a brute. Won't you shake hands with me?” Carey regarded him with frank curiosity. “Say” he said, “are you religious?” “No. Only human.” “Perhaps” said Carey dubiously, “but it doesn't seem possible that I should meet two white men in this nigger world. I think the species became extinct with the death of my friend Hennage.” “_Your_ friend--” “Why not? He liked me--I know he did. And I liked him. I'm glad he's dead--no, I'm not--I was glad an hour ago, but I'm sorry now. Had he lived I would have made of him my friend, for he was the only human being I have ever met that I could trust implicitly. He was your partner and he warned me to keep off. He meant it, and I knew he meant it--so I stayed off. Do you think, McGraw, that I would have let you beat me out of that land if it hadn't been for Hennage? I didn't dare rush those selections through for patent until he was dead--and then it was too late. Had you left your affairs in any other hands I would have crushed you, but Hennage could not be bought. I didn't even try. He was above a price.” “Is that why you failed to act immediately after you became convinced that I was an outlaw and would not dare claim the land when it should be granted to my clients?” demanded Bob. Carey nodded. “I met Hennage in Bakersfield, and he told me to keep my hands off those applications.” “Then he bluffed you, Mr. Carey. Harley P. Hennage was my friend, but not my partner. He did not have five cents invested in my scheme. I never mentioned it to him, and neither did my wife. His threat was a bluff, and where he got his information of my land deal is a mystery, the solution of which perished with Harley P.” Carey sat in his chair, with his head bowed. He was clasping and unclasping his fingers in a manner pathetically suggestive of helplessness. “I don't understand” he mumbled. “He told me to keep off and I kept off.” He sighed. “I'd have given a million dollars for a friend like him. I--I--never--had--one.”