# The Come-On/Chapter 3
### III.

IT was on the day after the gun-fight that Mortimer, mounting three flights of stairs to his room in the Palace, disgusted with Galena and pondering the advisability of leaving for the East, found a stranger in possession of the apartment. He surveyed him with an unfriendly eye.
The newcomer, who was bending over a grip, rose at his entrance. He was some years Mortimer's senior, of medium height but remarkably well built; his face was shrewd and alert wd deeply tanned; he wore a neatly rimmed pointed beard, and his clothes, as Mortimer noted with grudging approval, fitted him to perfection.
"Sorry to intrude," said the stranger. "I tried to get a room to myself, but such a thing wasn't to be had. I won't incommode you more than I can help. And I'm clean, anyway."
"It's all right," said Mortimer rather more cordially than he had intended, there was something likable about the stranger. He seemed to be a gentleman, at any rate. "I've had a room-mate of some sort ever since I came. Some of them——" he ended the sentence with a gesture of disgust.
"Rather impossible. I guess," said the stranger with a genial laugh. "Galena and misfortune make strange bed-fellows. "But then you have probably seen worse layouts than this in your experience, and so have I. A man can't travel extensively without running into some queer things."
J. Addison Mortimer's traveling experiences might have been compressed into a small leaflet, but he was not displeased at being taken for a seasoned traveler. He said:
"Yes, that's so. The people who stay at home don't see much life."
Having thus accomplished an informal acquaintance they observed the formalities by exchanging cards. That which Mortimer received bore the name Charles Anson Collingwood. Mr. Collingwood's address was Chicago, but the card gave no indication of the busies of its owner.
Collingwood, changing to clothes irreproachable in cut but plainly intended for hard service, shrugged himself into worn yellow slicker and disappeared, nor did Mortimer see him till evening, when he reappeared mud-stained and dripping from an afternoon apparently spent about the mines.
Mortimer watched his ablutions from the bed on which he lay.
"Been seeing the town?" he asked.
"Town be hanged!" Collingwood rubbed his hair into fluffy dryness with a rough towel. "No, I've been chasing about in half a dozen properties, sizing them up."
Mortimer digested this information. Collingwood looked the part of a mining expert, and it occurred to him that his acquaintance might be worth cultivating. If the latter knew of any good thing he might get in on the ground floor.
"You are a mining man, then?" he queried.
Collingwood smiled and shrugged his broad shoulders.
"I am an investment specialist," he said. "Never heard of that particular line of business before, I dare say?"
Mortimer confessed that he had not.
"I'll have to qualify it a little," said Collingwood. "Of course there are a number of fields of investment of which I have no knowledge—no one man can cover everything. My specialties are rather restricted, but mining happens to be one of them. People back East have gone crazy over Galena, and I am here to look at the ground for some of them."
"There ought to be good chances for investment," said Mortimer tentatively.
"Plenty of chances to sink money," returned Collingwood skeptically. "The good things can't be bought with much profit."
"But there are plenty of claims and prospects," said Mortimer. He was curious to ascertain the specialist's opinion of this class of investment, for up to date it had been the only sort offered him.
" 'A prospect is a hole in the ground owned by an infernal liar.'" quoted Collingwood with conviction. "I never touch them. My business reputation wouldn't stand it. What I want to find is a good mine in need of capital, and that's a hard matter."
"I'm looking for an investment myself," said Mortimer importantly, "but so far I've seen nothing that commends itself to my judgment."
The next day they became better acquainted. On the second night they dined together, and by some magic Collingwood was a able to obtain a far better meal than Mortimer had yet eaten at the Palace. Wine followed and cigars, both paid for by Coilingwood.
"No, no—nonsense!" he said when Mortimer insisted weakly on being allowed to "hold up his 'end.'" You're out here for your own hand, and while the size of your pile is none of my business, it's a good bet that the people behind me can afford to pay for a little sparkle better than either of us. Heavens, man, I've bathed old Swedes in champagne and they thought it was cider—all in the way of business. And I've paid for a few days' bender for half a dozen wild and woolly gentlemen, and the bill ran into the thousands. What little we can drink and smoke will cut no ice in my expense-money."
Mortimer sipped his champagne critically. His acquaintance with the beverage was not extensive, being confined to an occasional modest pint by way of celebration; but he would not have this easy-going, high-priced investment specialist, who was plainly used to the best, suspect that expensive wines were a rarity with him. The cigars, too, were of a better quality than he had thought it possible to obtain in Galena; certainly he had never seen them in the hotel show-case, and they evidently cost much more than his ordinary smokes.
When one bottle was finished another succeeded it. At the end of an hour Mortimer was talking freely and boastfully. He was of that class for whom liquor smooths away all difficulties of accomplishment, who esteem the thing desired as already done. His modest twenty-five thousand dollars expanded into an indefinite sum of large dimensions and he hinted solemnly at plans involving huge amounts. And he was not consciously lying: the peculiar thing about it was that he really believed every word he uttered, and considered himself a young Napoleon of finance.
Collingwood listened in silence, save for an occasional word. Although he had taken his full share of wine it had not affected him to speech. With his hat tilted a little over his shrewd eyes and a cigar in the corner of his mouth he harkened gravely, occasionally filling Mortimer's glass.
"You're a wise guy—what!" said the latter. "Sit, solemn's ol' owl an' say nothing. Why don't you cheer up some?"
"I like to hear you talk," replied Collingwood. "You've got ideas and the gift of expressing them. I'm enjoying myself."
"So'm I," said Mortimer. "You're a good fellow. Best I've struck in the mudhole. Say, let's go into business together."
"You've got too much capital for me," said Collingwood gravely. "How much did you say you were ready to invest here if you got a good chance?"
"Twenty thousand," said Mortimer proudly. "Look here, I've got money and ideas, but I want experience."
"You'll get that before long." said Collingwood without a smile.
"This is all new to me, unnerstan'?" pursued Mortimer [unconvincingly]. "Now, you're right in touch with things. If I ask you for advice as a friend you'll give it to me, won't you? Or maybe you could give me the straight tip if you found a good thing?'
"Well, you know," said Collingwood, evasively, "good things don't last, and have to be snapped up. Every time there's a cinch play you can figure on half a dozen men fighting for the first chance to get their dollars down on it. You have to have real money—cash—to put on the board, and as a rule there's no time to look twice at a proposition."
"I unnerstan' all that," said Mortimer, nodding his head with tipsy gravity. "I'm no piker, I've got twenty thousand to my credit in the bank here, and five thousand more at home, and I can plank down the cash on a good thing in half an hour."
"I'd like to oblige you," said Collingwood doubtfully. "But—you see—well, I'm not working for myself. Suppose I got hold of a good thing and turned it over to you, what would my people say if they heard of it? Do you suppose they'd give me business again? Not on your life. And 1 couldn't blame them."
"I wouldn't say a word about it," protested Mortimer.
"These things always get out somehow," returned Collingwood. "I'd strain a point for you, but I can't afford to throw down my principals. It wouldn't be square, and you shouldn't ask it."
"That's right," said Mortimer. "I wouldn't ask you to do anything dishonorable. Business is business, though," he proceeded knowingly. "I'd make it worth your while."
"If I gave you a tip at all," said Collingwood, as if offended at the offer, "it would be as a friend, and I wouldn't take a commission. You haven't got money enough to buy me, Mortimer, understand that."
Mortimer protested that he had never thought of such a thing, and Collingwood accepted his statement.
"I'll see what I can do for you out of friendship only," he said. "Snaps are hot to be picked up every day, but if I find what I think is a good thing I'll let you know about it and then you can use your own judgment."
"You're all right!" exclaimed Mortimer. "I like you. Let's have another bottle, on me."
"Not for me," said Collingwood. "I've had enough, and my head has to be clear in the morning. By the way, that room of ours isn't very comfortable and I've been trying for something better. If I get another would you care to bunk in with me or stay where you are?"
"I'm with you," said Mortimer. "The best's none too good for me." He exhibited a large roll of bills. "Drew out a bundle this morning." he said boastfully.
Collingwood had obtained a room on the first floor, and thither he and Mortimer moved their grips. The new apartment was large and well furnished and held two beds. It was a vast improvement on the little room on the fourth floor.
Mortimer dropped into a chair; in a few minutes he was nodding. Collingwood, lighting a fresh cigar, paced the floor softly, observing him.
"Confound it," he said, suddenly, "I was to see a man to-night, and I was so interested in our conversation that I clean forgot about it." He consulted his watch. "I may catch him yet. You won't mind my running away for half an hour, old man?"
"'S all right," said Mortimer sleepily. "You toddle along, and I'll have a little snooze. Then we'll finish the evening somewhere."