Elk City mining news. (Elk City, Idaho) 1903-1913, 1905-12-02
CHAPTER XXI.


you waste half the morning; let us get
on. At this rate" he sighed, 1--WE shall
take months before l get back the prop
erty."
'There will be no trade this morning,
uncle" David replied, standing in the
doorway. 1t was a week after | had told
him the truth. He had been turning 1t
over in his mind In the interval.
"Why not? David, If you were near
ly seventy you would be anxious to get
on; you would not shilly-shally over a
single bit of paper Let us get on, Da-
vid. Oh, you've got all the power now,
and l am in your hands. I won't grum-
bic, David No, take your own time,
my boy; take your own time"
The poor old man was strangely al
tered In four or five weeks, that he
should thus humble himself before his
nephew. But David had all the power 30
long as he had any of those coupons left.
you little thought when l came here
that | was going to give you so much
trouble, did you, Uncle Danielf You
thought you had the whip hand over me
always, didn't your But you see, first
the fall from your pony, then the loss Of
your papers, then the stroke, then my
coming home and finding those papers
all part of the judgmsntI-and now
there's more 30 follow"
What more7 Oh, David, what more p
the helpless old man only sroaned.
To-day. uncle I have come to talk
about my aunt's Will VIII Nethercote
told me. You did not. You thought that
as soon as our little business was finish
ed 1 should go away and never come
back any more. You thought you would
keep the money, did your Not SO, uncle;
not sop'
II thought you would never ind 1t
out, David" Mr.. Leighan confessed, with
somewhat surprising candor. 81 soon
found that you knew nothing about 1t,
and that you never go about and talk;
and 1 was pretty certain that you would
never find out. Well, now you know.
what difference does 1t maker You are
no nearer the money"
eve shall see. My aunt might JUST
as we'll have left 1t to me as to you.
To be sure, never thought she had half
30 much. She began with thousand.
She must have pinched and saved. She
left 1t to Mary, on the condition of her
marrying with your consent; and, If not,
the money was to go to me. And If
was dead, the will said nothing. So you
thought you could stick to the money
Uncle, you're a foxy onei You ought to
be in the States, and thirty years young
er. There you would find yourself at
home, with plenty of opportunity Well
am wiser now than / was. And see
now, uncle, | don't mean to go away
until this question is settled. What are
you going to DOR
''Why should 1 tell your
Keep it to yourself, then. 1 will tell
you what you thought you were going to
do: I've worked 1t all out. First, If you
let George and Mary get married before
the law let's you take Sldcote you will
lose Sidcote-" He began, in his slow
way, to tick off his points upon his fin
gers. "rhat's the first thing. After
you have got Sidcote, you will be still
loath to let the money go, and you will
keep Mary waiting on. You think that
shall soon go. Then you will keep the
money as long as you live. But suppose
they were to marry without your consent,
all the money comes to incomes to me.
That sticks, doesn't itf You can let
them marry now-and you will lose Sid
cote; you can let them marry after you
have got Sidcote; and you will have to
pay up; If you keep on refusing your con-
sent. you can keep the money as long as
you like-unless they marry without
Then you've got to give it to me. You've
had a taste of me already"
He waited a little. His uncle said
nothing, but watched him from under
his long, white eyebrows-not contempt
uously, as on the first interview after his
return, but with the respect due to the
strength of the situat ton.
Very well, then; you would rather
give that money to Mary than to me.
But you would like to get Sidcote; you
hate the thought of giving 1t to me, you
intended to keep 1t yourself Yet there
is no way out Of 1t If you want Sidcote.
Perhaps you think you would give 1t to
Mary. after you have got Sidcote. But
suppose she marries beforef Then you
would be obliged to give 1t all to me-"
go on, David; perhaps you are going
to propose something"
Il have been thinking things over. I'm.
Gle. You are getting old, you may die
any day; then Mary would be free. II
Is true that she might marry tomorrow
In which case SHOULD be entitled to ev.
erything. But don't think she would
be such fool. II were Mary, should
wait. You are seventy now, and you'y.
lost the use Of your legs. You can't last
very long. 1 should wait, If 1 wer,
Mary. Yes; it might be a year or two
1t couldn't be longer"
His uncle heard without any emotion
this argument In favor of his approa CHI
ing demise-country people use plainnesl
of speech about such matters-but b,
felt himself very far from dying, as mas
terful men always do up to the very end
"Well. David, supposing that what yol