“All right!  Of course it’s all right!  They haven’t any father or mother, you know, and they are independent of action, as you’ve no doubt noticed.  Bill kept house for Jim for some time—­and they used to keep a great house, I tell you,” said James, smacking his lips in recollection.  “Bert and I used to visit there a good deal.  That’s why they call me Jeems—­to distinguish me from Jim.  Then Jim got tired of doing nothing—­they possess everlasting rocks—­you know their lamented dad was a sort of amateur Croesus—­and he decided to monkey with mines.  Bert and I were here one summer, so Bill and Jim just pulled up stakes and came along too.  They have been here ever since.  They’re both true sports and like the life, and all that; and, besides, Jim has kept busy monkeying with mining speculation.  They’re the salt of the earth, that pair, if they do worry poor old Boston to death with their ways of doing things.  That’s one reason I like ’em so much.  Society has fits over their doings, but it can’t get along without them.”

“The Fays are a pretty good family, aren’t they?” inquired Bennington.  He was irresistibly impelled to ask this question.

“Best going.  Mayflower, William the Conqueror, and all that rot.  You must know of the Boston Fays.”

“I do.  That is, I’ve heard of them; but I didn’t know whether they were the same.”

Jeems perceived that the topic interested the young fellow, so he descanted at length concerning the Fays, their belongings, and their doings.  Time passed rapidly.  Bennington was surprised to see Jim coming down to them through the afterglow of sunset announcing vociferously that the meal was at last prepared.

“I’ve fed the old lady,” he announced, “and unlocked her.  She doesn’t know what’s up anyway.  She just sits there like a graven image, scared to death.  She doesn’t know a relocation from a telegraph pole.  I told her to get a move on her and fix us up some bunks, and I guess she’s at it now.”

They consulted as to the best means of guarding the prisoners.  It was finally agreed that Leslie should stand sentinel until the others had finished supper.

“I want to watch the effect of this light on the hills,” he announced positively, “and I’m not hungry, and Jim ought to cool off before coming out into the air, and Ben’s shoulder ought to be taken care of.  Get along with ye!”

Bennington accompanied Jim to the meal very cheerfully.  The facts as to the latter’s persecutions remained the same, but in some way they did not hold the same proportions as heretofore.  The mere item that Jim Fay was Mary’s brother, instead of her lover, made all the difference in the world.  He chattered in a lively fashion concerning the method of work to be adopted.  Suddenly he pulled himself up short.

“I think I must beg your pardon,” he said.  “I heard about it all from Jim Leslie.  I have been very green, and you were quite right.  If you still want to do so, let’s go into this together as friends.”