That evening they dined as befits men just out from a long incarceration in the North, first having tried unsuccessfully to locate Fraser; for the rogue was bound to them by the intangible ties of hardship and trail life, and they could not bear to part from him without some expression of gratitude for the sacrifices he had made. But he was nowhere to be found, not even at train time. "That seems hardly decent," Boyd remarked. "He might at least have said good-bye and wished us well." "When he's around he makes me sore, and when he's away I miss him," said George. "He's probably out organizing something--or somebody." At the station they waited until the last warning had sounded, vainly hoping that Fraser would put in an appearance, then sought their Pullman more piqued than they cared to admit. When the train pulled out, they went forward to the smoking compartment, still meditating upon this unexpected defection; but as they lighted their cigars, a familiar voice greeted them: "Hello, you!"--and there was Fraser grinning at their astonishment. "What are you doing here?" they cried, together. "Me? Oh, I'm on my way East." "Whereabouts East?" "Chicago, ain't it? I thought that was what you said." He seated himself and lighted another long cigar. "Are you going to Chicago?" George asked. "Sure! We've got to put this cannery deal over." The crook sighed luxuriously and began to blow smoke rings. "Pretty nice train, ain't it?" "Yes," ejaculated Emerson, undecided whether to be pleased or angered at the fellow's presence. "Which is your car?" "This one--same as yours. I've got the drawing-room." "What are you going to do in Chicago?" "Oh, I ain't fully decided yet, but I might do a little promoting. Seattle is too full of Alaskan snares." Emerson reflected for a moment before remarking: "I dare say you will tangle me up in some new enterprise that will land us both in jail, so for my own protection I'll tell you what I'll do. I have noticed that you are a good salesman, and if you will take up something legitimate--" "Legitimate!" Fraser interrupted, with indignation. "Why, all my schemes are legitimate. Anybody can examine them. If he don't like them, he needn't go in. If he weakens on one proposition, I'll get something that suits him better. You've got me wrong." "If you want to handle something honest, I'll let you place some of this cannery stock on a commission." "I don't see nothing attractive in that when I can sell stock of my own and keep _all_ the money. Maybe I'll organize a cannery company of my own in Chicago--" "If you do--" Boyd exploded. "Very well! Don't get sore. I only just suggested the possibility. If that is your graft, I'll think up something better." The younger man shook his head. "You are impossible," said he, "and yet I can't help liking you."