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Slinn looked quickly and sharply into Don Caesar's grave face. He seemed to be incapable of any double meaning. However, as he had no serious reason for awakening Don Caesar's jealousy, and very little desire to become an embarrassing third in this conversation, and possibly a burden to the young lady, he proceeded to take his leave of her.
"Who is Don Caesar?" asked Slinn. "The man what picked you up that day. I mean," continued Mulrady, seeing the marks of evident ignorance on the old man's face, "I mean a sort of grave, genteel chap, suthin' between a parson and a circus-rider. You might have seen him round the house talkin' to your gals." But Slinn's entire forgetfulness of Don Caesar was evidently unfeigned.
When Slinn had treated her like a child, it was with the humorous tolerance of an admiring superior, and not the didactic impulse of a guardian. She did not say this, nor did her pretty eyes indicate it, as in the instance of her brief anger with Slinn. She only said gently, "I should have thought you, of all men, would have been particular about your wife doing the proper thing. But never mind!
Any doubt, however, of the alliance of the families was dissipated by the intimacy that sprang up between the elder Slinn and the millionaire, after the latter's return from San Francisco.
His good spirits, which had been at first labored and affected, had become natural. Slinn, looking at his brightened eye and fresher color, could not help thinking he was more like his own real self at this moment than in his counting-house and offices with all his simplicity as a capitalist.
"Of course," said Slinn, gloomily. "Of course; so it oughter be," returned Mulrady, shortly. "Why, it's only their one day out of 364; and I can have 363 days off, as I am their boss. I don't mind a man's being independent," he continued, taking off his coat and beginning to unpack his sack a common "gunny bag" used for potatoes. "We're independent ourselves, ain't we, Slinn?"
I mean I made up my mind about ten minutes ago to cut the whole d d thing, and light out for fresh diggings. I'm sick of getting only grub wages out o' this bill. So that's what I mean by saying it's the last drink you and me'll take together. You know my ways: sayin' and doin' with me's the same thing." It was true. Slinn had often envied Masters' promptness of decision and resolution.
To the right it lost itself in the dense woods in the direction of the ominous stump; to the left it descended in nearly a straight line to the highway, now plainly visible, as was equally the boulder on which he had last discovered Mamie sitting with young Slinn. If he were not mistaken, there was a figure sitting there now; it was surely a man.
Slinn raised it in his trembling hands. "I think I do; and yet " "Slinn! is it yours?" "No," he said hurriedly. "Then what makes you think you know it?" "It has a short handle like one I've seen." "And is isn't yours?" "No. The handle of mine was broken and spliced. I was too poor to buy a new one." "Then you say that this pick which I found in my shaft is not yours?" "Yes." "Slinn!"
Those Americans are full of those low conceits; it was their national vulgarity. He had the letter in his angry hand. He could break it open if he wished and satisfy himself; but it was not addressed to HIM, and the instinct of honor, strong even in his rage, was the instinct of an adversary as well. No; Slinn should open the letter before him. Slinn should explain everything, and answer for it.
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