"She's just a big-hearted girl, and the only person, red, white, or yellow, who gave me a kind word or a bite to eat till you came along. That's all I know about her. I'd have gone crazy only for her." The big man ground his teeth as the memory of his injuries came uppermost. Before Boyd could follow the subject further, Alton Clyde strolled in upon them, arrayed immaculately, with gloves, tie, spats, and a derby to match, a striped waistcoast, and a gold-headed walking-stick. "Salutations, fellow-fishermen!" he began. "I just ran in to settle the details of our trip. I want my tailor to get busy on my wardrobe to-morrow." Boyd shook his head. "Ain't going to be no wardrobe," said Balt. "Why? Has something happened to scare the fish?" "I can't raise the money," Emerson confessed. "Still shy that twenty-five thou?" questioned the clubman. "Yes! I'm done." "That's a shame! I had some ripping clothes planned--English whip-cord--" "That stuff won't rip," George declared. "But over-alls is plenty good." Clyde tapped the narrow points of his shoes with his walking-stick, frowning in meditation. "I'm all in, and so are the rest of the fellows. By Jove, this will be a disappointment to Mildred! Have you told her?" "No. She doesn't know anything about the plan, and I didn't want to tell her until I had the money. Now I can't go to her and acknowledge another failure." "I'm terribly disappointed," said Clyde. There was a moment's silence; then he went to the telephone and called the hotel office: "Get me a cab at once--Mr. Clyde. I'll be right down." Turning to the others, he remarked: "I'll see what I can do; but as a promoter, I'm a joke. However, the trip will do me good, and I am hungry for the fray; the smell of battle is in my nostrils, and I am champing at my bit. Woof! Leave it to me." He smote the air with his slender cane, and made for the door with an appearance of fierce determination upon his colorless face. "You'll hear from me in the morning. So long!" His martial air amused the two, but Boyd soon dismissed him from his mind and spent that evening in such moody silence that, in desperation, Big George forsook him and sought out the manicure parlor. Fraser was busied on some enterprise of his own. The thought of Alton Clyde's raising twenty-five thousand dollars where he had failed was ridiculous to Emerson. He was utterly astounded when that radiantly attired youth strolled into his room on the following morning and tossed a thick roll of bills upon the table, saying, carelessly: "There it is; count it." "What?" "Twenty-five one-thousand-dollar notes. Anyhow, I think there are twenty-five of them, but I'm not sure. I counted them twice: once I made twenty-four and the next time twenty-six, but I had my gloves on; so I struck an averages and took the paying teller's word for it." Emerson leaped to his feet, staring at the dandy as if not comprehending this sudden turn of fortune.