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and bent forward with wobbling pen to affix his signature。 Before he had
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made more than a blot； he suddenly started up； impelled by the impact of
an idea colliding with his consciousness。 He stood upon his feet and
swayed back and forth before them； reflecting in his startled eyes the
thought process that was taking place behind。 Then he reached his
conclusion。 A benevolent radiance suffused his countenance。 He turned
to the faro dealer； took his hand； and spoke solemnly。
〃Curly； you're my frien'。 There's my han'。 Shake。 Ol' man； I won't
do it。 Won't sell。 Won't rob a frien'。 No son…of…a…gun will ever have
chance to say Marcus O'Brien robbed frien' cause frien' was drunk。
You're drunk； Curly； an' I won't rob you。 Jes' had thought never thought
it beforedon't know what the matter 'ith me； but never thought it before。
Suppose； jes' suppose； Curly； my ol' frien'； jes' suppose there ain't ten
thousan' in whole damn claim。 You'd be robbed。 No； sir； won't do it。
Marcus O'Brien makes money out of the groun'； not out of his frien's。〃
Percy Leclaire and Mucluc Charley drowned the faro dealer's
objections in applause for so noble a sentiment。 They fell upon O'Brien
from either side； their arms lovingly about his neck； their mouths so full of
words they could not hear Curly's offer to insert a clause in the document
to the effect that if there weren't ten thousand in the claim he would be
given back the difference between yield and purchase price。 The longer
they talked the more maudlin and the more noble the discussion became。
All sordid motives were banished。 They were a trio of philanthropists
striving to save Curly Jim from himself and his own philanthropy。 They
insisted that he was a philanthropist。 They refused to accept for a
moment that there could be found one ignoble thought in all the world。
They crawled and climbed and scrambled over high ethical plateaux and
ranges； or drowned themselves in metaphysical seas of sentimentality。
Curly Jim sweated and fumed and poured out the whisky。 He found
himself with a score of arguments on his hands； not one of which had
anything to do with the gold…mine he wanted to buy。 The longer they
talked the farther away they got from that gold…mine； and at two in the
morning Curly Jim acknowledged himself beaten。 One by one he led his
helpless guests across the kitchen floor and thrust them outside。 O'Brien
came last； and the three； with arms locked for mutual aid； titubated gravely
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on the stoop。
〃Good business man； Curly；〃 O'Brien was saying。 〃Must say like
your stylefine an' generous； free…handed hospital 。 。 。 hospital 。 。 。
hospitality。 Credit to you。 Nothin' base 'n graspin' in your make… up。
As I was sayin'〃
But just then the faro dealer slammed the door。
The three laughed happily on the stoop。 They laughed for a long time。
Then Mucluc Charley essayed speech。
〃Funnylaughed so hardain't what I want to say。 My idea is 。 。 。
what wash it？ Oh； got it！ Funny how ideas slip。 Elusive idea chasin'
elusive ideagreat sport。 Ever chase rabbits； Percy； my frien'？ I had
doggreat rabbit dog。 Whash 'is name？ Don't know namenever had
no nameforget nameelusive namechasin' elusive nameno； idea
elusive idea； but got itwhat I want to say wasO hell！〃
Thereafter there was silence for a long time。 O'Brien slipped from
their arms to a sitting posture on the stoop； where he slept gently。 Mucluc
Charley chased the elusive idea through all the nooks and crannies of his
drowning consciousness。 Leclaire hung fascinated upon the delayed
utterance。 Suddenly the other's hand smote him on the back。
〃Got it！〃 Mucluc Charley cried in stentorian tones。
The shock of the jolt broke the continuity of Leclaire's mental process。
〃How much to the pan？〃 he demanded。
〃Pan nothin'！〃 Mucluc Charley was angry。 〃Ideagot itgot leg…
holdran it down。〃 Leclaire's face took on a rapt； admiring expression；
and again he hung upon the other's lips。
〃 。 。 。 O hell！〃 said Mucluc Charley。
At this moment the kitchen door opened for an instant； and Curly Jim
shouted； 〃Go home！〃
〃Funny；〃 said Mucluc Charley。 〃Shame ideavery shame as mine。
Le's go home。〃
They gathered O'Brien up between them and started。 Mucluc
Charley began aloud the pursuit of another idea。 Leclaire followed the
pursuit with enthusiasm。 But O'Brien did not follow it。 He neither
heard； nor saw； nor knew anything。 He was a mere wobbling automaton；
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supported affectionately and precariously by his two business associates。
They took the path down by the bank of the Yukon。 Home did not lie
that way； but the elusive idea did。 Mucluc Charley giggled over the idea
that he could not catch for the edification of Leclaire。 They came to
where Siskiyou Pearly's boat lay moored to the bank。 The rope with
which it was tied ran across the path to a pine stump。 They tripped over it
and went down； O'Brien underneath。 A faint flash of consciousness
lighted his brain。 He felt the impact of bodies upon his and struck out
madly for a moment with his fists。 Then he went to sleep again。 His
gentle snore arose on the air； and Mucluc Charley began to giggle。
〃New idea；〃 he volunteered； 〃brand new idea。 Jes' caught itno
trouble at all。 Came right up an' I patted it on the head。 It's mine。
'Brien's drunkbeashly drunk。 Shamedamn shamelearn'm lesshon。
Trash Pearly's boat。 Put 'Brien in Pearly's boat。 Casht