When he got a little further along the street whom should he meet but the man with whom he intended to go into the speculation. It was buying waste land on the outskirts of the city, which might some day be profitable enough, but which would take double the amount that he had to improve it.
“Well, Clifford, did you try your brother?” he exclaimed, as soon as he got within speaking distance. “I know you have, for a fellow would not look as glum as you do who had met with any success.”
“Yes, I have tried him,” said Henderson, taking the opportunity to whisper a few choice swear words. “I have tried him, and he can’t see it. He had but a few dollars left, and he wants to invest that for Bob. Bob! Everything is for Bob! I wish I could get rid of that boy.”
“You know I told you, when he came back from the mines and brought that boy with him, that your cake was all dough,” said his friend, who was about as disgusted as a man could well be. “Why did not you take my advice and put him away long ago?”
“Because I was a fool—that’s why! You see I was afraid somebody would get onto it.”
“They won’t if you do as I tell you. But it is none of my funeral. If you can’t go into the speculation I must go and hunt up somebody else. I must have some of those acres up there, for I know there is money in them. Before I would be tied down by a little boy! Good gracious! Why don’t you push him overboard?”
“I never have a chance to go fishing with him,” said Henderson.
“No matter. You could make chances enough, I dare say. How does the boy feel toward you?”
“Friendly enough. I don’t think old Bob has mentioned my name to him for a long time.”
“Does his tutor go with him everywhere?”