"That shows good taste," Bethune remarked. "But how are you going to get

over the difficulty that you are what you call pushing? Anyhow, I'm

surprised it did occur to you."

"To tell the truth, it was something Fuller said----"

"So I imagined! Well, when you go too far I'll pull you up, but we

needn't bother about it in the meantime. You were obviously born a

hustler, but you have an ingenuousness that disarms resentment. In fact,

you quite upset our views of the British character."

"Then the feeling's mutual," Dick rejoined with a grin. "You don't

harmonize with what I've seen of Americans."

"Ours is a big country and we've room for different types; but I come

from Georgia and we haven't all learned to hustle yet in the South.

That's probably why I'm here, when I could have had a much better paid

job."

Dick did not doubt this, because he had seen something of the other's

mathematical powers. He was not a fool at figures himself, but Bethune

could solve by a flash of genius problems that cost him laborious

calculation. It was strange that such a man should be content to make a

very modest use of his talents.

"I suppose you have met Miss Fuller," Bethune resumed.

"Yes," said Dick. "She made things pleasant for me when I first went to

the tent. I like her very much."

"Miss Fuller has most of the New England virtues, including a stern sense

of her responsibility. I expect you don't know if she shares her father's

good opinion of yourself."

"I don't know what Fuller's opinion is," Dick replied awkwardly.

Bethune laughed. "Well, he's given you a good job. But why I asked was

this: if Miss Fuller's quite satisfied about you, she'll probably put her

maverick brother in your charge. She came here not long ago with the

object of finding out if I was suited for the post, and I imagined

learned something about me in a quiet way. It was a relief when she

obviously decided that I wasn't the proper man. The girl has

intelligence. If she had asked me, I could have recommended you."

"Do you know much about her brother?"

"I've learned something. The lad's a breakaway from the sober Fuller

type; and I think his views of life rather agree with mine. However,

perhaps we had better let Miss Fuller tell you what she thinks fit. And

now would you like some François Villon?"

"No," said Dick firmly. "I want to see that Moran turns out his gang at

sunrise and must get back."

"Pick me up the book, anyhow," Bethune replied, and laughed good-humoredly

when Dick left him.




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