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“It’s preposterous, childlike!”–he brought the frail trifle down to the table with an emphasis which was all but its destruction–“imbecile! I tell you I’m going to quit.

“Quit for good,” he repeated at the expression on the other’s face.

Bob Wilson scrutinized his companion with a critical eye.

“Waiter,” he said, speaking over his shoulder, “waiter, kindly tax our credit further to the extent of a couple of Havanas.”

“Yes, sah,” acknowledged the waiter.

Silence fell; but Bob’s observation of his friend continued.

“So you are going to quit the fight?” he commented at last.

“I am,”–decidedly.

Wilson lit his cigar.

“You have completed that latest–production on which you were engaged, I suppose?”

The writer scratched a match.

“This afternoon.”

“And sent it on?”

A nod. “Yes, on to the furnace room.”

A smile which approached a grin formed over Bob’s big face.

“You have hope of its acceptance, I trust?”

Calmar Bye blew a cloud of smoke far toward the ceiling, and the smile, a shade grim, was reflected.

“More than hope,” laconically. “I have certainty at last.”

Another pause followed and slowly the smile vanished from the faces of both.

“Bob,” and the long Calmar straightened in his chair, “I’ve been an ass. It’s all apparent, too apparent, now. I’ve tried to compete with the entire world, and I’m too small. It’s enough for me to work against local competition.” He meditatively flicked the ash from his cigar with his little finger.

“I realize that a lot of my friends–women friends particularly–will say they always knew I had no determination, wouldn’t stay in the game until I won. They’re all alike in this one particular, Bob; all sticklers for the big lower jaw.

“But I don’t care. I’ve been shooting into a covey of publishers for twelve years and never have touched a feather. Perseverance is a good quality, but there is such a thing as insanity.” He stared unconsciously at the portieres of the booth.

“Once and for all, I tell you I’m through,” he repeated.

“What are you going at?” queried Bob, sympathetically, a shade quizzically.

The long Calmar reached into his pocket with deliberation.

“Read that.” He tossed a letter across the tiny table.

Bob poised the epistle in his hand gingerly.

“South Dakota,” he commented, as he observed the postmark. “Humph, I can’t make out the town.”

“It’s not a town at all, only a postoffice. Immaterial anyway,” explained Calmar, irritably.

The round-faced man unfolded the letter slowly and read aloud:–

“MY DEAR SIR:–

“Your request, coming from a stranger, is rather unusual; but if you really mean business, I will say this: Provided you’re willing to take hold and stay right with me, I’ll take you in and at the end of a half-year pay $75.00 per month. You can then put into the common fund whatever part of your savings you wish and have a proportionate interest in the herd. Permit me to observe, however, that you will find your surroundings somewhat different from those amid which you are living at present, and I should advise you to consider carefully before you make the change.

“Very truly yours,
“E. J. DOUGLASS.”

Bob slowly folded the sheet, and tossed it back.

“In what particular portion of that desert, if I may ask, does your new employer reside?” There was uncertainty in the speaker’s voice, as of one who spoke of India or the islands of the Pacific. “Likewise–pardon my ignorance–is that herd he mentions–buffalo?”

Calmar imperturbably returned the letter to his pocket.

“I’m serious, Robert. Douglass is a cattle man west of the river.”

“The river!” apostrophized Bob. “The man juggles with mysteries. What river, pray?”

“The Missouri, of course. Didn’t you ever study geography?”

“I beg your pardon,” in humble apology. “Is that,” vaguely, “what they call the Bad Lands?”

Bye looked across at his friend, of a mind to be indignant; then his good-nature triumphed.

“No, it’s not so bad as that,” with a feeble attempt at a pun. He paused to light a cigar, and absent-minded as usual, continued in digression.

“I’ve dangled long enough, old man; too long. I’m going to do something now. I start to-morrow.”