"Never had any that I know of."
Kenneth started forward and, seizing the man's left hand, closely examined it. Yes, there was the scar on the index finger of the left hand. No further doubt was possible. This was his brother. Handsome, meantime, had been watching the other's agitation with mingled interest and amusement.
Hoarsely, Kenneth cried:
"Where have you been all these years?"
Handsome stared as if he thought his interlocutor had gone crazy. Almost angrily he retorted:
"What d——d business is it of yours?"
Paying no heed to the miner's offensive attitude, and anxious only to learn something of his history, Kenneth approached him and held out his hand.
"I wish to be your friend."
Handsome drew back suspiciously. Always associated with evil himself, he looked for only evil from others. Bitterly he retorted:
"My friend—what do your kind care for poor devils like me?"