The Irishman’s grinning eyes were full of beaming good-nature. But he had not come there to listen to any expression of gratitude.
Pryse tore open the envelope. He drew out a roll of money folded inside a long letter. Dan Quinlan stared. The outer bill he could see was for one hundred dollars. And inside it there looked to be at least fifty more of a similar denomination. But the other gave the money no heed. He was hungrily devouring the contents of the letter. Dan stooped and turned the roasting fish, amazed at the thing he had beheld.
Pryse looked up from his letter.
“Let’s eat, and I’ll fix the tea. I can talk as we eat.”
It was that talk Dan wanted to hear. Pryse passed into the hut, and returned with the limits of his household utensils—one plate of enameled iron. He knocked the ashes from the roasted fish, and piled them on the plate. Then he set the pot to boil, and threw a small handful of tea into it. Then he sat on the log again, and Dan possessed himself of a fish.
“You don’t know me, Dan, except the police are yearning to set me to hard labour,” Pryse began, while he ate the hot fish he, too, had picked up in his fingers. “You know what for, but that’s all. The thing you don’t know is I’m a pretty rich man as gold goes. My sister’s got charge of my stuff, and she’s living down in New York. She’s sent me the stuff I need to make my getaway. You’ve given me the news the Police have quit my trail. And so, with the summer coming, and maybe your further help, the way lies open for me. That all looks pretty good to me after the thing I’ve gone through. But I want to tell you I’ve fixed it to come right back again.”
“To set up that—homestead?”
The Irishman’s eyes were no longer grinning.
“That’s it, Dan. And I want you to help me. I want you to be partners in it with me. Oh, it’s going to be a crazy proposition. It’s crazy enough to suit an Irishman like you. It’s going to be a homestead like you’ve never heard of before. And the notion of it got right into my mind from the moment I christened this queer stretch of Nature the ‘Valley of Hope.’ It’s been that way for me, and I want to make it that way for others. Don’t get the notion I’m crazy. I’m not, boy. First one great fellow, and now you, have taught me something I can never forget. You folks have taught me there’s no feller so down and out there isn’t a shadow of hope for him somewhere in this tough old world. Well, my notion is, with you a partner, to collect that hope, and hand it to the folks needing it. Are you on, if I tell you about it? You’ll be my partner? I’ll find the stuff and organise. And you’ll come in on my profits without taking a chance.”
The Irishman guffawed loudly. But it was a laugh intended to disguise the feelings the other had stirred in his emotional heart.