York. Yes; but, my boy, you see I didn't strike it—in a rich father. I gave up gambling, married, and settled down, saved my money, invested a little here and there, and—worked for it, Jack, damn me,—worked for it like a damned horse!
Oakhurst (aside). True, this is not work.
York. But that ain't my business with ye now, old boy: it's this. You've had some trials and troubles in the bank lately,—a defalcation of agents one day, a robbery next. It's luck, my boy, luck! but ye know people will talk. You don't mind my sayin' that there's rumors 'round. The old man's mighty unpopular because he's a saint; and folks don't entirely fancy you because you used to be the reverse. Well, Jack, it amounts to 'bout this: I've withdrawn my account from Parkinson's, in Sacramento, and I've got a pretty heavy balance on hand—nigh on two hundred thousand—in bonds and certificates here; and if it will help you over the rough places, old boy, as a deposit, yer it is (drawing pocket-book.)
Oakhurst (greatly affected, but endeavoring to conceal it). Thank you, Harry, old fellow—but—
York (quickly). I know: I'll take the risk, a business risk. You'll stand by me all you can, old boy; you'll make it pay all you can; and if you lose it—why—all right!
Oakhurst (embarrassed). As a deposit with Morton & Son, drawing two per cent monthly interest—
York. Damn Morton & Son! I'll back it with Jack Oakhurst, the man I know.
Oakhurst (advancing slowly). I'll take it, Harry.
York (extending his hand). It's a square game, Jack!
Oakhurst (seizing his hand with repressed emotion). It's a square game, Harry York, if I live.