wanderlust and a black cat he had bought for a mascot. Bill shook hands with me when I left.
“‘Brother Peters,’ says he, ‘I have no business being in business. I was preordained to labor. When a No. 1 burglar tries to make a James out of his jimmy he perpetrates an improfundity. You have a well-oiled and efficacious system of luck at cards,’ says he. ‘Peace go with you.’ And I never afterward sees Bill Bassett again.”
“Well, Jeff,’ said I, when the Autolycan adventurer seemed to have divulged the gist of his tale, “I hope you took care of the money. That would be a respecta—that is a considerable working capital if you should choose some day to settle down to some sort of regular business.”
“Me?” said Jeff, virtuously. “You can bet I’ve taken care of that five thousand.”
He tapped his coat over the region of his chest exultantly.
“Gold mining stock,” he explained “every cent of it. Shares par value one dollar. Bound to go up 500 per cent. within a year. Non-assessable. The Blue Gopher Mine. Just discovered a month ago. Better get in yourself if you’ve any spare dollars on hand.”
“Sometimes,” said I, “these mines are not—”
158
