The Iron Trail. Rex Beach

not a belief, it's a disease," declared the fat man. "I was born to be a gambler, but the business is too uncertain. Now that I'm getting so old and feeble I can't work any more, I'd take it up, only I broke three fingers and when I try to deal I drop the cards. What are we going to do?"

      "Just wait," said O'Neil.

VI

       Table of Contents

      THE DREAMER

      Unobserved the two friends watched the poker game, which for a time proceeded quietly. But suddenly they saw Appleton lean over the table and address the man with the derby hat; then, thrusting back his chair, he rose, declaring, in a louder tone:

      "I tell you I saw it. I thought I was mistaken at first." His face was white, and he disregarded the efforts of his right-hand neighbor to quiet him.

      "Don't squeal," smiled the dealer. "I'll leave it to the boys if I did anything wrong."

      "You pulled that king from the bottom. It may not be wrong, but it's damned peculiar."

      "Forget it!" one of the others exclaimed. "Denny wouldn't double-cross you."

      "Hardly!" agreed Mr. Denny, evenly. "You're 'in' a hundred and eighty dollars, but if you're sore you can have it back."

      Appleton flung his cards into the middle of the table and turned away disgustedly. "It's a hard thing to prove, and I'm not absolutely sure I saw straight, or—I'd take it back, fast enough."

      Denny shrugged and gathered in the discarded hand. "You've been drinking too much, that's all. Your eyesight is scattered."

      Appleton's face flushed as he beheld the gaze of the company upon him and heard the laughter which greeted this remark. He turned to leave when O'Neil, who had continued to watch the proceedings with interest, crossed to the group and touched Denny on the shoulder, saying, quietly:

      "Give him his money."

      "Eh?" The smile faded from the fellow's face; he looked up with startled inquiry. "What?"

      "Give him his money."

      In the momentary hush which followed, "Happy Tom" Slater, who had frequently seen his employer in action and understood storm signals, sighed deeply and reached for the nearest chair. With a wrench of his powerful hands he loosened a leg. Although Mr. Slater abhorred trouble, he was accustomed to meet it philosophically. A lifetime spent in construction camps had taught him that, of all weapons, the one best suited to his use was a pick-handle; second to that he had come to value the hardwood leg of a chair. But in the present case his precaution proved needless, for the dispute was over before he had fairly prepared himself.

      Without waiting for O'Neil to put his accusation into words Denny had risen swiftly, and in doing so he had either purposely or by accident made a movement which produced a prompt and instinctive reaction. Murray's fist met him as he rose, met him so squarely and with such force that he lost all interest in what followed. The other card-players silently gathered Mr. Denny in their arms and stretched him upon a disused roulette table; the bartender appeared with a wet towel and began to bathe his temples.

      Appleton, dazed by the suddenness of it all, found a stack of gold pieces in his hand and heard O'Neil saying in an every-day tone:

      "Come to my room, please. I'd like to talk to you." Something commanding in the speaker's face made the engineer follow against his will. He longed to loiter here until Denny had regained his senses—but O'Neil had him by the arm and a moment later he was being led down the hall away from the lobby and the barroom. As Slater, who had followed, closed the door behind them, Dan burst forth:

      "By Jove! Why didn't you tell me? I knew he was crooked—but I couldn't believe—"

      "Sit down!" said O'Neil. "He won't pull himself together for a while, and I want to get to bed. Are you looking for a job?"

      The engineer's eyes opened wide.

      "Yes."

      "Do you know the Kyak country?"

      "Pretty well."

      "I need a surveyor. Your wages will be the same that Gordon paid and they begin now, if it's agreeable."

      "It certainly is!"

      "Good! We'll leave at six o'clock, sharp. Bring your bedding and instruments."

      "Thanks! I—This is a bit of a surprise. Who are you?"

      "I'm O'Neil."

      "Oh!" Mr. Appleton's expression changed quickly. "You're Murray—" He stammered an instant. "It was very good of you to take my part, after I'd been fool enough to—"

      "Well—I didn't want to see you make a total idiot of yourself."

      The young man flushed slightly, then in a quieter voice, he asked:

      "How did you know I was out of work?"

      "Mr. Gordon told me. He recommended you highly."

      "He did?"

      "He said you were unreliable, disloyal, and dishonest. Coming from him I took that as high praise."

      There was a moment's pause, then Appleton laughed boyishly.

      "That's funny! I'm very glad to know you, Mr. O'Neil."

      "You don't, and you won't for a long time. Tom tells me you didn't think well of Gordon's enterprise and so he fired you."

      "That's right! I suppose I ought to have kept my mouth shut, but it has a way of flying open when it shouldn't. He is either a fool or a crook, and his mine is nothing but a prospect. I couldn't resist telling him so."

      "And his railroad?"

      Appleton hesitated. "Oh, it's as good a route as the Trust's. I worked on the two surveys. Personally I think both outfits are crazy to try to build in from here. I had to tell Gordon that, too. You see I'm a volunteer talker. I should have been born with a stutter—it would have saved me a lot of trouble."

      O'Neil smiled. "You may talk all you please in my employ, so long as you do your work. Now get some sleep, for we have a hard trip. And by the way"—the youth paused with a hand on the doorknob—"don't go looking for Denny."

      Appleton's face hardened stubbornly.

      "I can't promise that, sir."

      "Oh yes you can! You must! Remember, you're working for me, and you're under orders. I can't have the expedition held up on your account."

      The engineer's voice was heavy with disappointment, but a vague admiration was growing in his eyes as he agreed:

      "Very well, sir. I suppose my time is yours. Good night."

      When he had gone "Happy Tom" inquired:

      "Now, why in blazes did you hire him? We don't need a high-priced surveyor on this job."

      "Of course not, but don't you see? He'd have been arrested, sure. Besides—he's Irish, and I like him."

      "Humph! Then I s'pose he's got a job for life," said Tom, morosely. "You make friends and enemies quicker than anybody I ever saw. You've got Curtis Gordon on your neck now."

      "On account of this boy? Nonsense!"

      "Not altogether. Denny is Gordon's right bower. I think he calls him his secretary; anyhow, he does Gordon's dirty work and they're thicker than fleas. First you come along and steal me, underhanded, then you grab his pet engineer before he has a chance to hire him back again. Just to top off the evening you publicly brand his confidential understrapper as a card cheat and thump him on the medulla oblongata—"

      "Are you sure it wasn't the duodenum?"

      "Well,