looking at Steptoe. "I found him wandering about the Hill here quite
drunk."

"I have repeatedly warned him"--began Van Loo, reddening.

"Against bad company--I know," suggested Jack gayly; "yet in spite of
all that, I think he owes some of his liquor to Steptoe yonder."

"I never supposed the fool would get drunk over a glass of whiskey
offered in fun," said Steptoe harshly, yet evidently quite as much
disconcerted as angry.

"The trouble with Steptoe," said Hamlin, thoughtfully spanning his slim
waist with both hands as he looked down at his polished shoes, "is that
he has such a soft-hearted liking for all weaknesses. Always wanting
to protect chaps that can't look after themselves, whether it's Whiskey
Dick there when he has a pull on, or some nigger when he's made a little
strike, or that straying lamb of Van Loo's when he's puppy drunk. But
you're wrong about me, boys. You can't draw me in any game to-night.
This is one of my nights off, which I devote exclusively to
contemplation and song. But," he added, suddenly turning to his three
hosts with a bewildering and fascinating change of expression, "I
couldn't resist coming up here to see you and your pile, even if I never
saw the one or the other before, and am not likely to see either again.
I believe in luck! And it comes a mighty sight oftener than a fellow
thinks it does. But it doesn't come to stay. So I'd advise you to keep
your eyes skinned, and hang on to it while it's with you, like grim
death. So long!"

Resisting all attempts of his hosts--who had apparently fallen as