CHAPTER XII.
A TANGLED SKEIN When Burrell entered he wasted no time in greetings.
"I know why you sent for me, Poleon.

I've heard the news, and I would have been up anyhow to congratulate her very soon.

I call it pretty fine." "Yes, dere's been beeg strike all right, an' Necia is goin' be riche gal." "I'm as pleased as if the claim were mine, and you feel the same way, of course." The Frenchman nodded.

"I love Necia very much, lak'-- well, lak' I'm broder to her." The knowledge that she was listening made him very uncomfortable--in fact, this whole affair savored more of double-dealing and treachery than anything he had ever attempted, and it went sorely against his grain, but it had presented itself as the only way to help her, and he proceeded, groping haltingly for fit expression, "Dere's t'ing I want for talk 'bout wit' you, but I'm scare' you'll t'ink I'm butt in." "Nonsense," said Burrell.

"I know you too well for that." "You know me for good man, eh?
An' you know I ain' try for bre'k up oder fellers' biznesse, never! Wal, I'm come to you now lak' wan good man to 'noder biccause I'm got bad trouble on de min', an' you mus'n't get sore." "There's no danger, Poleon.