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Updated: May 12, 2025
Where he is going he must make the sun his watch." "Yes," said Uncle Joe quickly, "but how about the night?" "Then he'll have to sleep and rest himself for the next day's work." "And how about getting up in good time?" "Daylight's the good time for getting up, Joe," said Uncle Dick; "and the sun will tell him the time." "Ah!" cried Uncle Joe triumphantly, "but the sun does not always shine."
But the instant the business was settled, his everlasting call went out for a Martini, and for a double-Martini at that, served in a long glass so as not to excite comment. Into Daylight's life came Dede Mason. She came rather imperceptibly.
But this time it was neither an ante nor a stake that he threw away, but a mere marker in the game that he who held so many markers would not miss. As a night, it eclipsed anything that Dawson had ever seen. It was Daylight's desire to make it memorable, and his attempt was a success. A goodly portion of Dawson got drunk that night.
On these occasions the pistol lay on Daylight's lap, covered carelessly by a newspaper, while he was usually engaged in rolling or lighting his brown-paper cigarettes. But in the end, the thing was accomplished. A suit-case was brought up by one of the clerks from the waiting motor-car, and Daylight snapped it shut on the last package of bills. He paused at the door to make his final remarks.
Yet every last one of them knew I had nothing but my salary and that I'd always lived a lap ahead of it." "But what do you do now?" was Daylight's query. "You must need cash to buy clothes and magazines?" "A week's work or a month's work, now and again, ploughing in the winter, or picking grapes in the fall, and there's always odd jobs with the farmers through the summer.
Bettles demanded from beneath, his arms clutched lovingly around Daylight's legs. "Yes, how much? What do you call a pile?" others cried. Daylight steadied himself for a moment and debated. "Four or five millions," he said slowly, and held up his hand for silence as his statement was received with derisive yells. "I'll be real conservative, and put the bottom notch at a million.
The latter had made great capital out of the forced resignation, but Daylight had grinned and silently gone his way, though registering a black mark against more than one club member who was destined to feel, in the days to come, the crushing weight of the Klondiker's financial paw. The storm-centre of a combined newspaper attack lasting for months, Daylight's character had been torn to shreds.
In fact, San Francisco's boss-ridden condition was due in greater degree to Daylight's widespreading battle than even San Francisco ever dreamed. For the part he had played, the details of which were practically all rumor and guesswork, quickly leaked out, and in consequence he became a much-execrated and well-hated man.
Daylight's interest was centered in the big flat itself, with deep water all along its edge for steamboat landings. "A sure enough likely town site," he muttered. "Room for a camp of forty thousand men. All that's needed is the gold-strike." He meditated for a space. "Ten dollars to the pan'll do it, and it'd be the all-firedest stampede Alaska ever seen.
If your brother wants to look on it as a loan, all right. It's up to him, and you've got to stand out of the way while I pull him back from that cliff." Still Dede refused, and Daylight's argument took a more painful turn. "I can only guess that you're standing in your brother's way on account of some mistaken idea in your head that this is my idea of courting. Well, it ain't.
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