Tom Outland's Story
and she crowded Jenny out an inch or so too far
from the canyon wall."
This painful interview went on for hours. I walked up and down the kitchen trying to make Blake understand the kind of value those objects had had for me. Unfortunately, I succeeded. He sat slumping on the bench, his elbows on the table, shading his eyes from the lantern with his hands.
"There's no need to keep this up," he said at last. "You're away out of my depth, but I think I get you. You might have given me some of this Fourth of July talk a little earlier in the game. I didn't know you valued that stuff any different than any- thing else a fellow might run on to: a gold mine or a pocket of turquoise."
"I suppose you gave him my diary along with the rest ?"
"No," said Blake, his voice growing gloomier and darker, "that's in the Eagle's Nest, where you hid it. That's your private property. I supposed I had some share in the relics we dug up-you always spoke of it that way. But I see now I was working for you like a hired man, and while you were away I sold your property."
I said again it wasn't mine or his. He took something out of the pocket of his flannel shirt and laid it on the table. I saw it was a bank passbook, with my name on the yellow cover.
"You may as well keep it," I said. "I'll never
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