Walsh had planned various moves in the expectation that Wayne would not refuse him; a brief interview at the Hercules National Bank; a visit to the safety vault where Wayne kept his securities; the transfer of a bundle of these chosen by Walsh to the bank, and the principal business was done. Wayne went a step beyond Walsh’s expectations by taking up his father’s notes aggregating two hundred thousand dollars in several other institutions, and gave his own notes to which he pledged collateral from his own strong box. “Is that all?” asked Wayne, when Walsh had carried him down to the mercantile company for a smoke and talk. “I’m going back to my job; Joe’s sitting on it for me till I come.” “No, that isn’t all; not quite. I want you to go up and see the Colonel. I want you to tell him what you’ve done.” Wayne fidgeted in his chair. “Look here, Tom; this is rubbing it in! You think what we’ve done will tide him over. If it does, all right; I’m not going up there to ask his blessing. The thought of the house makes me sick.” “Um! I want you to go up there. Things ain’t right there. The Colonel ain’t well; he hasn’t been himself since old Gregory died there----” “I shouldn’t think he would be,” snapped Wayne. “He wasn’t square with the old man. I wish you hadn’t spoken of that.” “Um! And the little woman up there’s troubled. She ain’t happy. It would help them both a lot if you would see them. You can go after dinner to-night, and then back to the mines for you if you’re happier up there. But I wish you would come home now and take your desk in here. You see I had a new one put in for you last spring when I thought it was all fixed; that’s the key, and there’s your desk. When you want to go to work you’ll find the key hanging here.” Walsh rolled a fat cigar in his mouth and pointed his stubby forefinger at the key suspended from his desk lamp by a piece of twine. Sentiment in Walsh was a new manifestation, and he wore it rather shamefacedly. He went to the outer window of his glass pilot-house and surveyed the scene below. “You there!” he bellowed. The loading of a dray had been interrupted by a sparring-match between two porters. Walsh’s wrath descended upon them furiously. He returned to Wayne, mopping his brow and lighted a cigar to compose himself. “I guess that’s all I got to say to you. You go up and see the Colonel. Tell him what you’ve done for him; do it any way you please, and do it now. I guess you ain’t been in a manicure shop lately, have you, son?” Wayne laughed and held out his scarred hands for inspection. “Um! I guess that’ll take the foolishness out of you. Now clear out o’ here! Can’t you see I got to sign this mail? And don’t you come back any more till you’re ready to go to work!” He rolled his chair in to his desk with much puffing and hid himself in a great cloud of smoke as he grabbed his pen. CHAPTER XXXVII WAYNE VISITS HIS FATHER’S HOUSE