greatly, for young Watt, save for an unusually large head, was much like
other young men of his class. His speech was soft, his face beardless
and his gray eyes gazed steadily but without curiosity on, what was for
him, an uncliented world. For the eighteen months that he had been an
"attorney and counselor at law" the detail of office rent had been taken
care of by the colonel.

"Sort of makes the game he played seem rotten poor sport," commented
Gilmore, replying to the nephew but looking at the uncle.

The colonel was silent.

"Rotten poor sport!" repeated Gilmore.

"Who'll come in for his property?" asked Watt Harbison.

"Oh, some one will claim that," said Gilmore. "They were saying down at
the store, that once, years ago, a brother of his turned up, here, but
McBride got rid of him."

"Suppose we have a look around before we settle ourselves for the
night," suggested Watt Harbison.

"Will you join us, Colonel?" asked the gambler.

But the colonel shook his head. Gilmore took up one of the lamps as he
spoke and opened a door that led into what had evidently once been a
dining-room, but it was now only partly furnished; back of this was a
kitchen, and beyond the kitchen a woodshed. Returning to the front of
the house, they mounted to the floor above. Here had been the old