“Ah! I’ve cut my eye-teeth, Mr. Craig. So long as they believe me a bachelor there’s a halo of romance around my head, no matter how homely I may be. Once stamp me a married man, and I’m left to amuse myself—the glamour is gone. Now, my private affairs have nothing to do with these giddy young rosebuds, and I don’t care to have my family under microscopic examination. Hence my silence.”
Aleck falls to musing.
“Wycherley would say you were right. At least I could depend on him until to-night, but he seems to have turned over a new leaf, and there you have him cutting a heavy swell with the banker’s daughter, and playing the devoted. Jove! he’s the most remarkable of men.”
“Quite a clever fellow, and you can bet I’m ready to yell myself hoarse if success comes to him. I wanted to see him on the top wave. He deserves it all. The little sister who is now living with my wife and family never forgets to pray for Claude Wycherley.”
“Well, I think he’s on the road to success, for Samson Cereal has taken to him, and means to utilize some talent he has for reading between the lines of stock quotations.”
“I see—feeling the pulse of the market as it were. Pardon me, every ring at the bell attracts my attention. I must keep an eye on the door. The colored footman opens it. Eureka! a messenger boy with a note. He refuses to deliver it over. Wise chap—long head! Such important matters ought only be given to those they’re meant for. My telegram has arrived. Now we’ll know what’s what, and be able to wind matters up. Ah, there! my colored friend, lead him this way, that’s right. Here I am. Colonel Robert Rocket of Colorado,” and with a broad smile of pleasure, and an eagerness he cannot disguise, the Western sheriff holds out his hand for the message.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE FALL OF THE MIGHTY OAK.
The small uniformed myrmidon of the telegraph company stands in front of the big Western sheriff, and holds the message behind his back.
“Who are you?” he asks immediately.