Gordon rose. "Well," he said, smiling, "I'm glad to know you think so well of me. We'll take a day or two to think things over, and then we'll have another talk. I'm tremendously obliged to you for all your trouble, and I'll send that check along this afternoon. Right out this door here. Takes you directly to the street. Good day, Mr. Frost. Behave yourself, now. Good day."
CHAPTER IV
[GORDON PLAYS TO THE GALLERY]
Harrison, somewhat clumsily, held the hotel door open for the stranger, and, as he followed him out into the street, quietly took his measure with a shrewd and appreciative eye.
Indeed, as the two men strolled leisurely along down through the town and out toward the smelting works, there seemed physically little to choose between them. Harrison, big and burly and strong, was the heavier by some twenty or thirty pounds, and yet the easterner, with his broad back, sloping shoulders, powerful, well-rounded chest, and alert, confident step, though evidently lacking the rugged endurance of the miner, looked nevertheless in strength to be fully his equal, and in agility and speed his superior. Both, indeed, were well-nigh perfect examples of their type; the mastiff and the wolfhound might perhaps have been a not inapt comparison.
The stranger was the first to break the silence. "Mighty good of you to take all this trouble, Jack," he said, "I'm getting to feel at home already."
Harrison grinned, with a rough attempt to disclaim any courtesy on his part. "That's all right," he said. "Want to treat a man fair if I can. Anyways a mining man. Too bad it's Saturday afternoon, though. That's a regular half holiday here now. Boys mostly lay around and enjoy themselves. We'll find most of 'em out at the park, I guess, doin' stunts."
The stranger looked at him inquiringly. "Stunts?" he queried.
Harrison grinned. "Athletic craze struck here about a month ago," he answered. "Kind o' funny, too, when you come to think of it, ain't it? Here's a crowd o' big miners slavin' away five days an' a half a week gettin' out copper, workin' like truck horses, an' then when Saturday afternoons come they've got to get out an' work just about twice as hard playin' baseball an' runnin' an' throwin' weights. It's a pretty damn lucky thing they've got Sunday to rest up in, or they'd be one o' these fallin' offs in copper production you minin' fellers tell of."
Gordon's face betrayed his interest. "It does seem funny," he acquiesced, "but I know how it is, just the same. I used to do a little in that line myself once on a time, and pretty good fun it was, too," and he smiled reminiscently as he spoke, as if the memories that came to mind were pleasant ones.