The Arizona copper camp., 1920-07-03
CHAPTER I
The Reaching of a Decision.

The Reaching of Decision.
For the second time that night
Frederick Cavendish, sitting at small
table in a busy :afe where the night
life of, the city streamed continually
in and out regarded the telegram
spread out upon the white napery. 1t
read:
"Bear Greek, Colorado, 4-2-5.
"Frederick Cavendish, College Club,
New York City.
"Found big lead lost it again. Need
you badly. Westcott."
For the second time that night, too,
a picture rose before him, picture of
great plains, towering mountains, and
open spaces that spoke of the freedom
and health of outdoor living. He had
known that life once before, when he
and Jim Westcott had prospected and
hit the trail together, and its appeal
to him now after three years of shall
low sightseeing in the city was deeper
than ever.
"Good old Jim," ne murn ured,
"struck pay-dirt at last only to lose it
and he needs me. By George, think
I'll CO."
And why should he not? Only
twenty-nine, he could still afford to
spend a few years in search of living.
His fortune left him at the death of
his father was safely invested, and
he had no close friends in the city and
no relatives, except a cousin, John
and little regard.
He had almost determined upon go
ing to Bear Creek to meet Westcott,
and was calling for his check when
his attention was arrested by noisy
party of four that boisterously took
seats at a nearby table. Cavendish
recognized the two women as members
of the chorus OF the prevailing Revue,
one of them Celeste La Rue, an ag-
gressive blonde with thin lips and a
metallic voice, whose name was syn
onymous with midnight escapades
and flowing wine. His contemptuous
smile at the sight of them deepened
into a disgusted sneer when he saw
that one of the men WAS John Caven-
dish, his cousin.
The two mems eyes met, and the
younger, a slight, mild-eyed youth with
a listless chin, excused himself and
presented himself at the elders table.
"Won't you join us?" he said ner-
vously.
Frederick Cavendish's trim, bearded
jaw tightened and he shook his head.
'"They are not my people," he said
shortly, then retreating, begged, "John,
when are you going to cut that sort
out?'
''You make me weary!'' the boy
snapped. 'Its easy enough for you
to talk when you've got all the money
that gives you an excuse to read me
moral homilies every time I ask you
for a dollar, but Miss La Rue is as
good as any one of your friends any
day.
The other controlled himself.
'What is it you want?" he demanded
directly. money? If so, how much?"
ga hundred will do,' the younger
man said eagerly. 81 lost a little on
cards lately, and have to borrow. To-
night I met the girl"
Frederick Cavendish silenced him
and rendered him the bills. snow"
he said gravely, ''this is the last, un-
less you cut out such people as Celeste
La Rue and others that you train with.
I'm tired of paying bills for your inane
extravaganza and parties. | can cur
tail your income and what's more, /
will unless you change"
For moment the dissipated youth
surveyed, his cousin, then an angry
flush mounted into his pasty face.
"You-you-" he suffered, you
go to hell"
Without another word the elder
Cavendish summoned the waiter, paid
the bill, and walked toward the door.
John started after him, a smile of deri-
sion on his face. He had heard Caven-
dish threaten before.
When Frederick Cavendish reached
the street and the fresh night air
raced through his lungs ne came to
sudden realization and then a resolu-
tion. The realization was that since
further pleading would avail nothing
with John Cavendish, he needed a les
son. The resolution was to give it to
him.
He turned the matter over in his
mind as he walked along until reflec-
ton was ended by the doors of the
College club which appeared abruptly
and took him in their swinging circle.
He %yent Immediately to the writing
room, laid aside his things and sat
down. The first thing to 10, he de-
cided, was to obtain an attorney and
consult him regarding the proper steps.
For no other reason than that they
had met occasionally in the corridor
he thought of Patrick Enright
Calling a page boy, he asked that