Page:California Inter Pocula.djvu/398

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"What ye got there?" demanded Pat, as his sharp eye caught the glorious color beneath the rubbish. '* O, nothing much," Sinclair replied, "my men brought it in." "Ain't ye afraid somebody will steal it  ?" asked Pat, as he threw off the articles that covered it, and took a long and deep look into it. " I don't lie awake nights about it," Sinclair said. "You may have it, Pat, if you will carry it away ; yes, if you will lift it but three inches from the ground." Sinclair was a man of his word, but McChristian knew well enough the feat to be impossible. Nevertheless, he could not resist the temptation of plunging his hands into it, of stirring it up and smoothing it down, and finally, just for the fun of it, of taking a tug at it. " Only three inches from the ground," again Sinclair quietly re- marked, "and it is yours, so help me."

Pat lifted, straining himself into seriousness, strain- ing until he saw sky-rockets and shooting stars. It was of no use. The measure clave to the ground as if riveted there. It would not leave it a hair's breadth, and Pat was obliged to go forth and content himself with increasing his fortune by slower degrees.

The quality of their fellowship was rare indeed. Not more singular and hearty in verse was the wel- come Horace gave Lucius Varius, his friend and fellow-student at Athens, and the fellow-soldiers at Philippi, than that given in reality by these rough digging men to a returned comrade.

•' Pour till it touch the shining goblet's rim, Care-drowning massic; let rich ointments flow From amplest conchs  ! No measure we shall know ! What ! shall we wreaths of oozy parsley trim

Or simple myrtle  ? \^niom will Venus send To rule our revel  ? Wild my draught shall be As Thracian Bacchanals', for 'tis sweet to me To lose my wits, when I regain my friend. "

Under the shaggy uncombed locks were finely tempered brains puzzling over the body's destiny; and beneath gray woolen shirts were hearts, some large some small, beating to the measures now of celestial songs and now of Abaddon's wing-fiaps.