_BOUND FOR HOME_
"Barry, I must have a serious talk with you," said Jack.
"All serene, fire away. That blessed doctor has been at you, I can see
it in your face," he replied with a smile.
"You are ill, it is no use trying to hide it. Because you have never
been laid up before you fancy it will go on all right till the end of
time, but it won't. You must rest. All your life you have been a hard
worker, and now you are run down."
"How the deuce can I rest with these mines on our hands? It is too good
a thing to leave go of now we have got the grip. Wait until I have
settled this business and then I am your man."
"How long will it take?" asked Jack.
"Perhaps one year, perhaps two, it may be longer."
"And before then it will not matter to you whether you are rich or poor,
money will be of no use to you."
"What do you mean?"
"What I say, money is of no use to a dead man."
Barry started and his face went a shade paler.
"Doctors are fools," he said.
"Patients who disobey their orders can be placed in that category," said
Jack.
"But I cannot give this thing up yet, Jack, it's not fair either to you
or me."
"Then it will give you up, and as for myself I would sooner have to
start fresh than see any harm befall you."
Barry's face softened. Seldom in his tumultuous life had he heard a
friend speak in this strain.
"I have a suggestion to make," said Jack. "Float the claims into a
company. We can get as much as we want out of the concern in cash and
hold the bulk of the shares. A responsible manager can look after things
and take all the responsibility off your shoulders."