The same thought must have hit Cuyler too. Couldn't help it. He was lookin' level into them steady eyes, hearin' that husky, even voice, and watchin' that calm, rugged face that had so much strength behind it. A party to depend on, to tie to. Anyway, something of the kind got him, got him hard.
"By George!" says he. "I—I wish I could!" And with that he gives Hunk the grip, quick and impulsive.
Which was when I developed this foolish idea. I looks over to J. Bayard and grins. Then I turns back to Cuyler. "Well, it can be fixed," says I.
"Eh?" says he. "I beg pardon?"
"Your bit from Pyramid's pile," says I. "If you'll take the chance of chuckin' your salary and quittin' the ranks of the unburied dead, we'll stake you to enough so you can buy in with Hunk. Won't we, Steele?"
J. Bayard gulps once or twice and looks sort of dazed. "If Mr. De Kay really wishes to connect himself with such a venture," says he, "of course I——"
"I do," breaks in Cuyler. "And I assure you, Gentlemen, that I feel more alive at this moment than I have for the last twenty years. My friend Burley here has done that. I want to go on feeling that way. I am willing to follow him anywhere."
"Then it's a go," says I. "Steele, write a voucher and I'll O.K. it."
"Good work!" says Hunk, givin' Cuyler another bone crushing grip. "And remember, we split fifty-fifty on all the net. I'll close the deal by to-morrow noon, and three weeks from to-day we open in Savannah."
Half an hour after they'd both gone J. Bayard still sits there gazin' vague and puzzled at the silver crook on his walkin' stick.