So I was afterwards told. I was too full of mud myself to see the way
into the house.

Stiver got his horse all right, and stays at home to care for him. Mrs.
Perkins has gone to her mother's to recuperate, and I am healing as fast
as possible.




THE CRIMSON CORD[1]

BY ELLIS PARKER BUTLER


I had not seen Perkins for six months or so and things were dull. I was
beginning to tire of sitting indolently in my office with nothing to do
but clip coupons from my bonds. Money is good enough, in its way, but it
is not interesting unless it is doing something lively--doubling itself
or getting lost. What I wanted was excitement--an adventure--and I knew
that if I could find Perkins I could have both. A scheme is a business
adventure, and Perkins was the greatest schemer in or out of Chicago.

Just then Perkins walked into my office.

"Perkins," I said, as soon as he had arranged his feet comfortably on my
desk, "I'm tired. I'm restless. I have been wishing for you for a month.
I want to go into a big scheme and make a lot of new, up-to-date cash.
I'm sick of this tame, old cash that I have. It isn't interesting. No
cash is interesting except the coming cash."