Part 5 (2/2)

”That's what I want to do,” replied Mr. Zept, with a sigh, ”and I've been trying to make his home take the place of the saloons, but,” and he shook his head, ”you see where he is now.”

”All right,” exclaimed Colonel Howell. ”That doesn't need to discourage you. I think we'll have to send him where there isn't any Paris and where there aren't any cafes.”

”What do you mean?” broke in the disturbed father.

”I mean up to Fort McMurray, where they'll put a man in jail if they find a drink of whisky on his person.”

Mr. Zept sat upright and darted a look at his old friend.

”That's right,” went on Colonel Howell. ”When you leave Athabasca Landing, the fellow who tells you good-bye is a mounted policeman, and he doesn't shake hands with you either. If you've got a drop of whisky with you, you've got to have it inside of you. If you try to take whisky into that country, you've got to be smarter than the smartest policemen in the world. The 'opportunity' is gone. And there's another thing,” went on the aroused colonel. ”If your boy thinks he's been robbed of something, when he finds he hasn't anything to drink, you can see yourself that he'll have plenty of other things to interest him.”

The agitated ranchman sprang to his feet and took a quick turn around the room.

”Howell!” he exclaimed at last, as he returned and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, ”this upsets every plan I have.”

”Maybe they ought to be upset,” rejoined the oil man.

”You're right,” answered his friend thickly. ”It's all pretty sudden and it's all a kind of a blow to me, but you're right. What can I do?”

”Easy enough,” responded the other as he relit his cigar; ”he wants to go with me. Let him have his way. I've never been called upon to attempt anything in the reform line and I don't think I will be now. Let your son join us and I think that'll be the end of what is causing you a good deal of misery. It isn't a case of curing him of the whisky habit. I believe he'll simply forget it.”

”Will you take him?” suddenly asked Mr. Zept, his face a little white.

”Sure!” exclaimed Colonel Howell. ”Call it settled and get this terrible fear off your mind. Paul's all right and I'll bet when you see him again he'll give an account of himself that'll make you proud.”

But the boy's father was not so easily a.s.sured. ”Howell,” he said in a nervous tone, ”you've done something for me this evening that I don't think I'll ever forget. I don't often talk about money, but I'm a rich man. From what you've told me, I can see you're yet working pretty hard.

You may have plenty of money but no matter as to that. I know it takes a lot of money to do what you're doing. I'm not doing this to show my appreciation of what you're willing to do for me, but it looks as if you're the only real friend I have in the world. Let me put some money into this venture with you--I don't care how much--but I've an interest in your project now--”

The Kentuckian was on his feet in a moment. ”Jack,” he began without any show of resentment, ”I've got all the money I'll ever need in this world.

It's fine of you to say what you have, but now I'm going to make you a new proposition. I'm willing to take your boy and treat him as my own son but I'll have to put one condition on it.”

The ranchman only looked his surprise. A wave of his hand indicated that any condition would be met.

”I want him to go with me but I'll only take him as my guest.”

”Hill,” said Mr. Zept, after looking his friend directly in the eye, ”I knew from the moment we first made camp together up on the Peace, that you were the real stuff. I haven't any way to thank you.”

”Let's compromise on another of those cigars,” laughed Colonel Howell, ”and then, if it is agreeable to you, and I can have the use of your car for a short time, I have some business of my own.”

After a few moments with his hostess, Colonel Howell departed in the motor. As soon as he was out of his host's hearing, he ordered the driver to take him to the King George Hotel. Still puffing his new cigar, the oil man entered the hotel and made a quick examination of the bar room.

The person he was looking for was apparently not in sight. Nodding his head to an occasional acquaintance, Colonel Howell made his way downstairs to the fas.h.i.+onable cafe.

He did not obtrude himself, but called the head waiter and after a question, took out his card and scribbled a line on it. A few moments later, in the lobby of the hotel, he was joined by young Count Zept, who explained that he had been dining with a few friends. Colonel Howell motioned him to a seat and gave no sign of noticing the boy's flushed face and somewhat thick speech.

He had spoken hardly a dozen words to the excited young man, when the latter seemed to throw off his condition as if it had been a cloak. He even discarded the cigarette he was smoking. Then the colonel resumed his talk with the young man and for several minutes spoke very earnestly in low tones.

As he concluded, the young man sat sober and tense.

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