“Then we can probably make a bargain,” said Mr. Melville.  “Please name your price.”

Now, I do not propose to show my ignorance of real estate values in Colorado by naming the price which George Melville paid for his home in the wilderness.  In fact, I do not know.  I can only say that he gave Falkland a check for the amount on a Boston bank, and a hundred in cash besides.

“You are liberal, Mr. Melville,” said Falkland, gratified.  “I am afraid you are not a business man.  I have not found that business men overpay.”

“You are right, I am not a business man,” answered Melville, “though I wish my health would admit of my being so.  As to the extra hundred dollars, I think it worth that much to come upon so comfortable a home ready to my hand.  It will really be a home, such as the log cabin I looked forward to could not be.”

“Thank you,” said Falkland; “I won’t pretend that I am indifferent to money, for I can’t afford to be.  I earn considerable sums, but, unfortunately, I never could keep money, or provide for the future.”

“I don’t know how it would be with me,” said Melville, “for I am one of those, fortunate or otherwise, who are born to a fortune.  I have sometimes been sorry that I had not the incentive of poverty to induce me to work.”

“Then, suppose we exchange lots,” said the artist, lightly.  “I shouldn’t object to being wealthy.”

“With all my heart,” answered Melville.  “Give me your health, your literary and artistic talent, and it is a bargain.”

“I am afraid they are not transferable,” said the artist, “but we won’t prolong the discussion now.  I am neglecting the rites of hospitality; I must prepare supper for my guests.  You must know that here in the wilderness I am my own cook and dishwasher.”

“Let me help you?” said Melville.

“No, Mr. Melville,” said Herbert, “it is more in my line.  I have often helped mother at home, and I don’t believe you have had any experience.”

“I confess I am a green hand,” said Melville, laughing, “but, as Irish girls just imported say, ‘I am very willing.’”

“On the whole, I think the boy can assist me better,” said Falkland.  “So, Mr. Melville, consider yourself an aristocratic visitor, while Herbert and myself, sons of toil, will minister to your necessities.”

“By the way, where do you get your supplies?” asked Melville.

“Eight miles away there is a mining camp and store.  I ride over there once a week or oftener, and bring home what I need.”

“What is the name of the camp?”

“Deer Creek.  I will point out to Herbert, before I leave you, the bridle path leading to it.”

“Thank you.  It will be a great advantage to us to know just how to live.”

With Herbert’s help an appetizing repast was prepared, of which all three partook with keen zest.

The next day Falkland took leave of them, and Melville and his boy companion were left to settle down in their new home.