Even at the "Poodle Dog" we took our food with small
appetite and less speech; and it was not until he was
warmed with a third glass of champagne that Pinkerton
cleared his throat and looked upon me with a
deprecating eye.
"Loudon," said he, "there was a subject you didn't wish
to be referred to. I only want to do so indirectly.
It wasn't"--he faltered--"it wasn't because you were
dissatisfied with me?" he concluded, with a quaver.
"Pinkerton!" cried I.
"No, no, not a word just now," he hastened to proceed;
"let me speak first. I appreciate, though I can't
imitate, the delicacy of your nature; and I can well
understand you would rather die than speak of it, and
yet might feel disappointed. I did think I could have
done better myself. But when I found how tight money
was in this city, and a man like Douglas B. Longhurst--
a forty-niner, the man that stood at bay in a corn
patch for five hours against the San Diablo squatters--
weakening on the operation, I tell you, Loudon, I began
to despair; and--I may have made mistakes, no doubt
there are thousands who could have done better--but I
give you a loyal hand on it, I did my best.
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