that time alone. I'm old, and I want you near me."

"All right, uncle; whatever you say goes."

When DeGolyer mounted a mule and set out on his journey, young Sawyer,
as if clinging to his friendship, walked beside him for some distance
into the country.

"Well, I'd better turn back here," said the young man, halting. "Say,
Hank, don't stay away any longer than you can help. It's devilish
lonesome here, you know."

"I won't, my boy."

"All right. And say, if you can't do the thing up as well as you want
to, throw up the job and come back here, for I'll turn loose, the
first thing you know, and make enough money for both of us."

"God bless you, I hope that you may always make enough for yourself."

"And you bet I will, and for you, too. I hate like the mischief to see
you go away. Couldn't think any more of you if we were twin brothers.
And you think a good deal of me, too, don't you, Hank?"

"My boy," said DeGolyer, leaning over and placing his hand on the
young fellow's shoulder, "I have never speculated with my friendship,
and I don't know how valuable it is, but all of it that is worth
having is yours. You make friends everywhere; I don't. You have
nothing to conceal, and I have nothing to make known. To tell you the
truth, you are the only real friend I ever had."