THE UP GRADE [Illustration: “The candle in the niche behind her cast a dim light over the soft curves of Jean’s cheeks”] THE UP GRADE BY WILDER GOODWIN WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY CHARLES GRUNWALD BOSTON LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 1910 _Copyright, 1910_, BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY _All rights reserved_ Published, January, 1910 Fifth Printing THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. TO MY MOTHER MAUD WILDER GOODWIN ILLUSTRATIONS “The candle in the niche behind her cast a dim light over the soft curves of Jean’s cheeks” _Frontispiece_ PAGE “The girl was kneeling beside him” 36 “‘It seems like as if you was bitten, Mr. Loring,’ said Hankins” 125 “No one quite dared to lead an attack upon Knowlton, who stood his ground beside the body” 241 THE UP GRADE CHAPTER I Stephen Loring sat on the edge of the sidewalk, his feet in the gutter. He was staring vacantly at the other side of the street, completely oblivious of his surroundings. No one would select a Phœnix sidewalk as an attractive resting-place, unless, like Loring, he were compelled by circumstances over which he had ceased to have control. “Here, ‘Hombre’! How are you stacking up? Do you want a job?” With an uncertain “Yes,” Loring arose from the sidewalk, before looking at the man who addressed him. Turning, he saw a brisk, sandy whiskered man about forty-five years of age, who fairly beamed with efficiency, and whose large protruding eyes seemed to see in every direction at once. The questioner looked only for a second at the man before him. The face told its own story—the story of a man who had quit. The tired eyes half apologized for the lines beneath them. “Easterner,” decided the prospective employer, “since he wears a belt and not suspenders.” The stranger extended his hand in an energetic manner, and continued: “My name is McKay. The Quentin Mining Company, up in the hills, want men. They sent me down to round up a few. You are the forty-first man, and the boss bet me that I would only get forty.” Loring’s head was still swimming as the result of a period of drunkenness which only lack of funds had brought to a close. By way of answer he merely nodded wearily and murmured: “My name is Loring.”