324         THE TRAIL OF  '98
gether: and now I'll be gol-darned if I'm going to stand by and see you go downhill, while the devil oils the bearings."
" Oh, I'm all right," I protested.
" Yes, you're all right," he echoed grimly. " In an impersonation of an ' all-right' man it's the hook for yours. I've seen ' all-right' men like you hitting the hurry trail for the boneyard before now. You're ' all right'! Why, for the last two hours you've been sitting with that ' just-break-the-news-to-mother' expression of yours, and paying no more heed to my cheerful brand of conversation than if I had been a measly four-flusher. You don't eat more than a sick sparrow, and often you don't bat an eye all night. You're looking worse than the devil in a gale of wind. You've lost your grip, my boy. You don't care whether school keeps or not. In fact, if it wasn't for your folks, you'd as lief take a short cut across the Great Divide."
" You're going it a little strong, old man."
" Oh no, I'm not. You know you're sick of everything. Feel as if life's a sort of penitentiary, and you've just got to do time. You don't expect to get any more fun out of it. Look at me. Every day's my sunshine day. If the sky's blue I like it; if it's grey I like it just as well. I never worry. What's the use? Yesterday's a dead one; to-morrow's always to-morrow. All we've got's the ' now,' and it's up to us to live it for all we're worth. You can use up more human steam to the square inch in worrying than you can to the square yard in hard