When supper was over we seized an opportunity when the White Ghost was on an outward trip and escaped.
I advised the judge that he’d better take the key and go to our room and get into bed, and the old man accepted that advice with a sigh of thankfulness. He looked bent, weary, and broken as he climbed the stairs; homesick hopelessness showed in every line of his face and in every motion of his body. I did pity him then!
“Poor old father of the girl with the two bright eyes,” I said, not realizing that I had spoken aloud.
A man sidled up and prodded me with his thumb.
“I heard what you said to the old gent just now! Where did you get your tip, pard?” he whispered.
I had already forgotten just what the driver had said.
“You needn’t let it out if you don’t want to. But there’s a little inside guessing in these parts and when you hear a man let drop anything about the ‘Two Bright Eyes,’ it’s reckoned he has had a hunch of some kind.”
“I wasn’t thinking about that mine!”
The man grinned.
“That’s right—keep it sly! But see here, pard, I’m going to test you out a little on this thing. I’ve got a few thousand shares of the old stock. Took it over in a poker game a long time ago—we gamble mining stocks out this way when we’re busted. I’m busted now—and they won’t take mining stock at the roulette wheel. I’ll sell you five hundred shares of ‘Bright Eyes’ at fifty cents a share.”