"Well, Jeff," said I, when the Autolycan adventurer seemed to have divulged the gist of his tale, "I hope you took care of the money. That would be a respecta—that is a considerable working capital if you should choose some day to settle down to some sort of regular business."
"Me?" said Jeff, virtuously. "You can bet I've taken care of that five thousand."
He tapped his coat over the region of his chest exultantly.
"Gold mining stock," he explained, "every cent of it. Shares par value one dollar. Bound to go up 500 per cent. within a year. Non-assessable. The Blue Gopher mine. Just discovered a month ago. Better get in yourself if you've any spare dollars on hand."
"Sometimes," said I, "these mines are not—"
"Oh, this one's solid as an old goose," said Jeff. "Fifty thousand dollars' worth of ore in sight, and 10 per cent. monthly earnings guaranteed."
He drew out a long envelope from his pocket and cast it on the table.
"Always carry it with me," said he. "So the burglar can't corrupt or the capitalist break in and water it."
I looked at the beautifully engraved certificate of stock.
"In Colorado, I see," said I. "And, by the way, Jeff, what was the name of the little man who went to Denver—the one you and Bill met at the station?"