“But see here, old-timer; how about your grub-stake?” queried Bromley, catching step and walking with Garth to the waiting train. “You’re not going to tell me that you saved enough for it out of the check I slipped you a week ago?” The big man grinned foolishly. “You’re whistlin’ ag’in, Harry. That there fish-eyed faro-dealer in Clem Bull’s place raked in the last dollar o’ that hand-out afore I’d had time to say ‘Howdy’ to it. I’d ’a’ gone hungry a heap o’ times since then if it hadn’t been for Phil.” “Phil?” said Bromley, recalling Philip’s stubborn refusals to join in any of the check-slippings. “Yep, you heard me,” Garth nodded, putting a foot on the step of the car to be ready to swing up when the starting signal should be given; “li’l’ old Phil. Yuh recollect how he kind-a soured on me ’long to-wards the last up at the ‘Jean,’ and after you and him come here to Denver, he’d pass me in the street without ever seein’ me--head up and eyes straight out in front, like this”--illustrating in solemn burlesque. “But he’s a whole lot different now; wouldn’t know him for the same Phil a-tall.” “How, different?” Garth pushed his wide-brimmed hat back and scratched his head with a reflective finger. “Why, I dunno, eggzackly; more like folks, I reckon you’d say. Met up with him yiste’day in Tom and Jerry’s place, and he was leanin’ up ag’inst the bar, a-pourin’ hisself a drink o’ red likker like a man. Wouldn’t buy me a drink, though--no, sir-ree!--not on your sweet life! What he done was to drag me off into a corner and ask me if I didn’t want to go prospectin’; allowed he’d stake me good if I’d premise not to blow it; said he knowed if I’d promise, I’d stick.” “Well?” queried Bromley. “I shuck hands on it. He done it, and done it right. After we’d been to the bank, and down to Wolfe Londoner’s place to git Wolfe to ship me a bunch o’ grub to Buena Vista, Phil, he kind-a hung on and says, says he, ‘Damn it, Jim, I’m half a mind to go along with you. When I git to thinkin’ about the clean old hills....’ ‘Come on,’ says I, ‘and we’ll hunt us up another li’l’ bonanza.’ But he says, ‘No, I ain’t a coward, Jim; and that’s what I’d be if I took to the hills now.’ What you reckon he meant by that?” “Perhaps Phil is the only one who knows the answer to that question, Jim; and if he is, he won’t tell.” “Speakin’ o’ Phil,” Garth went on, with a glance over his shoulder to see if the train conductor was in sight and ready to give the starting signal; “what-all d’yuh reckon he’s got to do with that frozen-eyed faro-dealer in Clem Bull’s?” “I don’t know; tell me,” said Bromley, suddenly anxious to have the train starting further delayed.