"Is that all you want? If I served you right I'd kick you out of the door and let you do your worst. I know if you sue that you can't recover one dollar from me. But I have my reasons for putting up with your insolence. I will pay you forty-five thousand dollars and not one cent more. The market value of 'The Witch' to-day I have made by my management. I have gone on improving the mine day by day. As it stands it is a new property. You were a quarter owner in 'The Biddy.' We capitalized 'The Biddy' at your own suggestion at two hundred thousand dollars, because we wanted it big enough to cover all values. When I render you your share of that I am doing you justice. John, make out three checks for forty-five thousand dollars each." Dan and Biddy turned upon Eldred and talked him into silence, but he was unconvinced. Clement refused to touch the checks, and the clerk said: "Here is yours, Biddy." Biddy went up and took the slip in her hands. "Is that little slip o' white paper really worth so much?" "Call at the bank and get your money when you want it," said the imperturbable cashier. Dan studied his check, his face foolish with joy. Eldred took his, saying, "This puts into my hands the means to fight." Clement merely nodded. "You know my address." Eldred went out without further word. When the door closed on him Clement's face lost its sternness, and he became sad and tender. His struggle was not yet done. His mind was clear about the man who came in at the eleventh hour, but it was not clear with regard to these true-hearted old friends who had been with him from the first. He recalled the time when Dan's big arm had helped him to a chair, and Biddy had put the steaming soup before him--food worth all the gold in the world at that moment. He recalled her broad, kindly face, hot and shining from the stove; he remembered their struggles, their sacrifices. "Wait a moment, Biddy," he said, as they called out "Good-night," and started to leave. "Sit down a moment, and you, too, Dan. I want to talk over old times a while." They sat down in stupefaction. "Biddy, do you remember the money you squandered on the lottery ticket?" A slow smile broadened her face. "I do, Mister Clement--and I remember I won the prize sure!" "You did, and saved all our lives. Dan, do you remember the day we lost our last five-dollar gold piece in the grass?" Dan slapped his knee. "Do I? I wore me hands raw as beef combin' the grass that day." "Ah, those were great days. We had days when forty-five cents would have made us joyous, and here you are with ninety thousand dollars, and wishin' for more." Dan laughed again. "Sure, that's no lie." "It is, Dan Kelly," said Biddy. "I have enough--too much. My heart misgives me now. I'm afraid of it, sure. I'm scared to carry it away wid me."