himself. "Ain't he a fighting chicken?"

"Give it to me," demanded Eddring; and the other, astounded, humbled,
reached into his pocket.

"I will give it to you, boy," said he, soberly, "and twenty like it,
if you'll forget all this and come into my house. I'm mighty sorry. I
don't want the money. You know that. I want _you._ Come on in, man."
He handed back the slip of paper. "Come on in," he repeated.

"I will not, sir," said Eddring. "This was business, and you made it
personal."

"Oh, business!" said Blount.

"Sir," said John Eddring, "the world never understands when a man has
to choose between being a business man and a gentleman. It does not
always come to just that, but you. see, a man has to do what he is
paid to do. Can't you see it is a matter of duty? I can't afford to
be a gentleman--"

"And you are so much one, my son," said Calvin Blount, grimly, "that
you won't do anything but what you know is right. My friend, I won't
ask you in again, not any more, right now. But when you can, come
again, sir, some day. When you can come right easy and pleasant, my
son, why, you know I want you."

John Eddring's hard-set jaw relaxed, trembled, and he dared not
commit himself to speech. With a straight look into Colonel Blount's
eyes, he turned away, and passed on down the path, Blount looking