And already, in the eyes of Fairchild, Harry was swiftly approaching that place where he could do no wrong.
"You 're wonderful, Harry," came at last.

The Cornishman puffed with pride.
"I'm a cuckoo!" he admitted.

"Where's Mother 'Oward?
Where's Mother 'Oward?
Won't I knock 'er eyes out, now ?" And he boomed forward toward the dining room, to find there men he had known in other days, to shake hands with them and to bang them on the back, to sight Blindeye Bozeman and Taylor Bill sitting hunched over their meal in the corner and to go effusively toward them.

"'Arry" was playing no favorites in his "'ome-coming." "'Arry" was "'appy", and a little thing like the fact that friends of his enemies were present seemed to make little difference.
Jovially he leaned over the table of Bozeman and Bill, after he had displayed himself before Mother Howard and received her sanction of his selections in dress.

Happily he boomed forth the information that Fairchild and he were back to work the Blue Poppy mine and that they already had made a trip of inspection.
"I 'm going back this afternoon," he told them.