The Tenderfoots by Francis Lynde

HAVING seen the Follansbees and Stephen Drew off for their hotel, Bromley lingered on the broad station-plaza platform which served as a hack stand, knowing that Philip must pass this way on his return up-town. When Philip appeared at last, not through the station archway, but at the foot of the stair leading down from the offices on the second floor, the play-boy caught step with him.

"I thought you'd show up if I waited long enough," he began. Then, taking a leaf out of Philip's own book of directness: "Who was the girl?"

Philip's smile was soberly tolerant. "So you were looking on, were you? What did you see?"

"I saw you kiss her and put her on the train."

"Well?"

"You mean it's none of my business? I suppose it isn't. But I did hope you'd stop short of the women, Phil."

"Why should I?"

"For one reason, if for no other. You've been in love with Jean; though you may think you are not, you are still in love with her. How can you -- -- "

Another man might have said the few words which would have made all clear. But Philip Trask was of those who rub salt into their own wounds and find a certain gruesome satisfaction in the process.

"You can't think any worse of me than I think of myself, Harry. As for Jean. that is all over and done with, as I told you in the beginning. The stars are not more completely out of my reach, now."

Bromley gave it up, and they walked on up-town in silence until the Curtis Street corner was reached.

"Not going any farther my way? " Bromley inquired, pausing before he turned westward.

The drifter's laugh was brittle. "No. Your day is ended, but mine is just fairly beginning. Good-night."

It was on the day following this evening episode that Bromley, dropping into Charpiot's for luncheon, found himself seated at a table for two with Reddick. For a time the talk was of mines and mining, and the opening of the new metal and coal fields in the Gunnison country, toward which two railroads were hastily extending their lines to accommodate the anticipated rush to the new district.

"More flotsam and jetsam to be caught later in our own little back-wash here in Denver," was Reddick's cynical prophecy; "and more crooks and tinhorns and highfliers to keep 'em company. I'm getting mighty sick of all this high-keyed razzle-dazzle and excitement, Harry. The pace is too swift for little Reddy. I don't suppose I had taken half a dozen drinks in my life until after I came out here; and now I am getting to be a walking whiskey-barrel."

Bromley smiled. "Why don't you cut it out? " he asked.

"Cut it out? I can't -- not in my business. I'll give you a sample. With the Tabor Opera House about to open, theatrical companies are beginning to book the circuit -- Denver, the Springs, Pueblo and Leadville -- and, of course, I try to get a share of the haul for my railroad. This morning I went up to the Opera House office to see one of the troupe managers, and the first thing he did was to push the wall button for a round of drinks. I'd had three or four already with other pie-eyed patrons of the company, and when the bar-boy came, I ordered a plain seltzer. ‘Whatzzat? ' shouts the man from New York. ‘You'll drink with me, or you don't carry us a mile over your damn' railroad, see? ' It made me so hot that I told him to go to hell, and walked out -- and I lose the business."

"It is demoralizing, I grant you," said Bromley. "But Denver -- all Colorado, for that matter -- is merely in the effervescent stage; it will settle down, after a while."

"Not until after it has beautifully spoiled a lot of us fellows who would have been at least half-way decent, normally. Just in my limited little circle I can point you to dozens of young fellows who never had any leanings toward the toboggan till they came West, but they are on it now. I'm one of 'em, and your partner's another; only, as I told him last night, he can still be a pretty good sort of devil when the fit strikes him."

"Last night? " echoed the play-boy. "What, in particular, happened last night?"