The Silver Horde - Part 23
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Part 23

As for George, he had been very quiet since the night of his encounter with Marsh, and he spent much of his time by himself. This was a relief to Boyd, until he happened several times to meet the big fellow in strange places at unexpected hours, surprising in his eyes a look of expectant watchfulness, the meaning of which at first puzzled him. It took but little observation, however, to learn that the fisherman spent his days in hotel lobbies, always walking about through the crowd, and that by night he patrolled the theatre district, slinking about as if to avoid observation. Emerson finally realized with a shock that George was in search of his enemy; but no amount of argument could alter the fellow's mind, and he continued to hunt with the silence of a lone wolf. What the result of his meeting Marsh would be Boyd hesitated to think, but neither George nor he discovered any trace of that gentleman.

These various cares, added to the consequences of his inability to finance the cannery project, had reduced Emerson to a state bordering upon collapse. Balt had entered his room that morning for his daily report of progress, and after his partner's confession of failure had fetched a deep sigh.

"Well, it's tough, after all we've went through," he said. Then, after a pause, "Cherry will be broken-hearted."

"I hadn't thought of her," confessed the other.

"You see, it's her last chance, too."

"So she told me. I'm sorry I brought you all these thousands of miles on a wild-goose chase, but--"

"I don't care for myself. I'll get back somehow and live in the brush, like I used to, and some day I'll get my chance. But she's a woman, and she can't fight Marsh like I can."

"Just who or what is she?" Boyd inquired, curiously, glad of anything to divert his thoughts from their present channel.

"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.

"Did you rustle this money without any help?" he demanded.

"Abso-blooming-lutely!"

"Is it your own?"

"Well, hardly! It is so far from it that I was sorely tempted to spread my wings and soar to foreign parts. It wouldn't have taken much of a nudge to b.u.t.t me clear over into Canada this morning."

"Where in the world did you get it, Al?"

"What difference does that make? I _got_ it, didn't I?" He slapped his trousers leg daintily with his stick. "You can issue the stock in my name."

Boyd seized the little fellow and whirled him around the room, laughing gleefully, lifted in one moment from the pit of despair to the height of optimism.

"Stop it! I'm all rumpled!" gasped Clyde, finally, sinking into a chair "When I get rumpled in the morning I stay rumpled all day. Don't you touch me!"

"Whose money is this? What good angel took pity on us?"

Clyde's faded eyes dropped. "Well, I turned a trick, and to all intents and purposes it is mine. There it is. I didn't steal it, and--you don't have to know _everything,_ do you? That is why I got the check cashed."

"I beg your pardon," Boyd apologized; "I didn't mean to pry into your affairs, and it is none of my business, anyhow. I'm glad enough to get the money, no matter where it came from. I'd forgive you if you had stolen it." He began to dress hurriedly. "You are the fairy prince of this enterprise, Alton, and you can go to Kalvik and pick flowers or play the mandolin or do anything you wish. Now for a telegram to the bank at Seattle. We leave to-morrow."

"Oh, here, now! I can't get my wardrobe ready."

"Ward--nothing! You don't need any clothes! You can get all that stuff in Seattle."

"Must have wardrobe," firmly maintained Clyde. "No can do without."

"George and I will be in Seattle for several weeks, so you can come on later."

"No, sir! I'm going to trail my bet with yours. I might change my mind if I hung around here alone. I'll make my tailor work all night to-night; it will do him good. But it upsets me to be hurried; it upsets me worse than being rumpled in the morning."

That was a busy day for Boyd Emerson, but he was too elated to notice fatigue, even while dressing for the Waylands'. He had arranged to come an hour before dinner, that Mildred and he might have a little time to themselves, and his haste to acquaint her with the news of his success brought him to the Lake Sh.o.r.e house ahead of time. She did not keep him waiting, however, and when she appeared, gowned for dinner, he fairly swept her off her feet with his abruptness.

"It's a go, my Lady; I have succeeded."

"I knew it by your smile. I am so glad!"

"Yes. I have all the money I need, and I am off for the Coast to-morrow."

"Oh!" She drew back from him. "To-morrow! Why, you wretch! You seem actually glad of it!"