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"Why – why, no! Can't say as we have!" she answered, evidently surprised. "An' I don't know as we could if we wanted to. Ain't much call for a place like this, Mr. Thomas!"

"But you can't always tell about these things, my dear lady," said Thomas, addressing himself exclusively to Mrs. Jones. "It might not be so hard to find a purchaser, and at a good price, too."

"I – I don't think Bill would like to sell," she replied, doubtfully. "Would you, Bill?"

Her husband made no reply. He sat gazing straight ahead, his eyes half shut as usual.

"Perhaps Mr. Jones is indifferent on the subject," Thomas resumed. "Now I am sure that if he felt that you and Miss Mildred were well provided – "

"Say, you're kinder full of ideas yourself, ain't you?" Bill interrupted, unexpectedly turning and bringing his thin, unshaven face close to the other man's, quite unwonted force and anger in his manner.

"Daddy!" Millie cried, while his wife stared at him.

The anger left his face and the old, shrewd, humorous light crept back into his eyes.

"I don't believe in more 'n one idea at a time," he said, grinning. "No – I guess mother an' me an' Millie 'll try out that little busted-heart notion o' mine first, afore we tackles any other notions. Guess I'll turn in, mother – had a kinder tall day. Look sorter all in yourself. Better come along. Tirin' business, havin' ideas. If Mr. Thomas 'ain't been entertained ernough, maybe Millie 'll stay down an' keep the show goin'." And he got up slowly, stuck his hands in his pockets, and ambled into the house.

"I think we'd better go in, too, mother," said Millie, rising. "I know you're just fagged out, and it's late, anyway. You won't mind if we leave you to finish your cigar, Mr. Thomas, will you?"

"Not at all! Not at all!" Thomas exclaimed, with his smile. "A thousand pardons for keeping you up so late – it was thoughtless of me!"

He sprang to the screen door, held it open for them, and called a cheery "Good-night!" as they disappeared up the stairs. Then he sat down again and thoughtfully finished his cigar. He appeared to have a lot to think about, to figure out. When finally he went up to his own room a light burned there for an hour longer.

In the morning Bill Jones was up and about unwontedly early. He got himself some breakfast, then went to the little desk where the few boarders habitually left the letters they had written the night before for the outgoing mail, which he took to the post-office. He found some half-dozen letters on the desk this morning, and he examined the addresses deliberately. One in particular seemed to interest him immensely. It was in a handwriting he had seen before and recognized as that of Raymond Thomas. He put a finger to his cheek and gazed up at the ceiling – which is the same as saying that Bill Jones was making a careful mental note of the name and address on that letter. It was addressed to one Everett Hammone, the Golden Gate Land Company, San Francisco. It was quite obvious that Bill Jones had a strong desire to know the contents of that letter; but he dropped it carelessly among the rest, bundled them up with a string and stuffed them in his pocket as he strolled out of the house on his daily journey.

Out on the trail a bit, his ambling feet came to a pause. He took out his tobacco and papers and rolled a cigarette. Lighting it, he turned around and gazed up the mountain, his eyes blinking in the morning sunlight as they rested on the dot that was John Marvin's cabin. For a moment it seemed as if Bill had it in mind to change his direction and go up the mountain.

"I sure would like to have er talk with John," he mused. "Sure would. 'Ain't had a talk with him for some time. But I guess as John is pretty put to it with that there timber proposition – things must be gittin' some excited up there! Maybe I'll go up to-morrer."

And having characteristically decided to do it to-morrow, Bill continued his morning stroll toward the post-office.

CHAPTER III

For reasons obvious and otherwise, Bill Jones did not carry out his intention of visiting John Marvin's cabin "to-morrow." In spite of himself, Bill naturally was drawn into the vortex of work and preparation necessary to turning his home into the Calivada Hotel. The period of change was a nightmare to Bill, the only leaven in his misery being the astonishing fact that he actually evolved quite a number of ideas – ideas which Mrs. Jones, Millie, and Lem Townsend not only O.K.'d, but put into instant execution – and found exceedingly workable. He made many attempts to disappear from the premises, but his wife, or Millie, or Lem always had an eye on him and managed to frustrate his hasty sorties or more subtle schemes to take French leave. This went on day after day, and now Bill had endured nearly six weeks of more or less pleasantly enforced captivity.

In the mean time the mysterious "excitement" up the mountain about which Bill had mused that morning on the trail had come to a head, and John Marvin's little cabin seemed to be the center of it.

It was shortly after sundown one evening that a big, red-headed lumberjack, obviously a Swede, put his head in the door of the cabin and glanced quickly around the one room. Seeing that there was no one inside, he entered, closing the door behind him. Going to the window, he looked out through the thick grove of pines and cedars, but evidently could see no one. He was breathing hard, as if from running, and he sank into a chair.

His rest was short-lived. There was a rap at the door, which was instantly pushed open, and a lanky, sinewy man in sombrero and riding-breeches, with two revolvers at the belt, strode in. The Swede, on his feet in an instant, recognized the intruder as Nevin Blodgett, sheriff of Washoe County.

"What you want?" the lumberjack asked, in his heavy voice.

The sheriff did not answer at once, but took a quick survey of the cabin's contents, his eyes lighting up as they rested upon the unwashed dishes on the table, telling of a recent meal. There was a self-satisfied swagger about the sheriff as he walked up to the Swede.

"You're John Marvin, ain't you?" he demanded.

"No, sir," replied the Swede, with a heavy frown.

The sheriff looked puzzled for a moment; then it seemed to dawn on him that it was just possible that a big, red-headed Swede was not likely to be John Marvin.

"Well!" he snapped. "Then I guess you're working for him, ain't you?"

The lumberjack shook his head and went close to Blodgett, emphasizing his words, "Who I work for bane my business!" There was no fear in his manner as he stood looking into his interrogator's face with a grin that boded ill for any one looking for trouble.

Blodgett backed away, his eyes following the breadth of the Swede's husky shoulders and the line of his powerful arms.

"None of that!" he said. "You're with the gang that's been chopping down that timber out there. You know well enough that Marvin's stealing that timber, don't you?"

"Stealing?"

"Yes! He's stealing it from the Pacific Railroad Company, and I'm here to arrest him for it!"

"Humph!" The Swede shrugged his shoulders and wheeled around, gazing anxiously out of the window, where the path through the forest was visible.

"You know where he is, don't you?" Blodgett asked.

"He gone away."

"Where?" Blodgett stamped his spurred boot.

"I doan' know."

"When did he go?"

"Maybe – yesterday."

"When's he coming back?"

"I doan' think he coomin' back." The Swede deliberately put a kettle on the stove and whistled indifferently.

Blodgett was evidently torn between a desire to maintain his dignity and authority as sheriff and a rather healthy reluctance to have any trouble with the great, hulking Swede.

"It's going to be hard for you if you're lying – "

He got no farther. The Swede stepped up to him with blazing eyes.

"You call me liar?" he yelled. "I throw you out the door!"

Blodgett backed quickly away – very quickly. His hand sought the latch behind him. "If you threaten me, the next thing you know you'll find yourself in jail!" he cried, shaking his fist.

The Swede's only answer was an ugly grin. Blodgett opened the door, slamming it after him as he went away.

The big lumberjack stood quiet for several minutes, listening to the sounds of retreat beaten by the hoofs of Blodgett's horse. Assured that the sheriff was safely out of the way, he crept to the window, thrust his head over the sill, and gave a low whistle.

There was a stir in the soap-plant outside and Marvin emerged, hurried around to the door, and entered the cabin.

"Good work!" he exclaimed, laughing and clapping the grinning Swede on the back. "You got rid of him very well, Oscar! Now I'll go on with my supper!"

He took off his coat and went over to the stove, where he began to shake the damper to let out the ashes. Oscar came and stood beside him.

"He tell me – "

"I know what he told you," Marvin interrupted, continuing to shake the ashes.

"Do that land belong to the railroad?" There was a slight note of alarm in the Swede's voice.

"It does now, Oscar," Marvin replied, throwing some paper and wood into the stove and lighting it; "but I sold the timber a long time before the railroad got the property, and I'm trying to save the timber for the man who bought it from me."

"Oh!" The Swede turned toward the door, as if to go. "Bane they arrest you for that?"

"Not unless they find me!" Marvin chuckled.

"An' me an' the boys – can they arrest oos?"

"No, Oscar," Marvin laughingly reassured him. "You fellows are working for me and you are not supposed to know anything about my affairs."

"Oh!" The Swede gave a satisfied nod of his head. "I see – you know that from – from your books." He jerked his thumb toward a table in the corner on which some law-books stood.

"Yes," said Marvin, looking into the coffee-pot. "Anyhow, you'll be gone in the morning. The job's done, thanks to you and the boys."

The lumberjack stood for a moment, nodding his red head; then he turned slowly and went out.

Marvin put the coffee-pot on the stove, watched it a minute, and then sank thoughtfully into the shabby but comfortable arm-chair at the end of his reading-table – which also served as a dining-table. He sat there for several minutes – until the coffee, boiling over on the stove, brought him out of his reverie and to his feet. At the same moment he caught the sound of remote but high words coming from that part of his land where the recently cut timber was stacked.

"I tell you he bane gone away!" he heard, in Oscar's heavy, threatening voice.

Hurriedly pushing the coffee-pot on to the back of the stove, he sprang to the door, but before he could reach it it was thrust in against him and he was thrown back into the middle of the room, where he stood, perforce, facing a tall, athletic-looking man in motor togs. The man's strong, intellectual face, undoubtedly pleasant and agreeable ordinarily, was now clouded with anger, his jaw set and grim.

At sight of him, however, Marvin's fists unclenched and he smiled amiably, despite the other's attitude.

"Why, hello, Mr. Harper!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand. "You're just the man I've been looking for! But you seem a bit upset. What's the trouble?"

Ignoring the outstretched hand, Harper threw off his duster and tossed it, with his gloves, on the table.

"Just a minute, young man," he said, with a grim tightening of his jaw and his keen eyes boring into Marvin's. "Just a minute. I came here to have a look for myself and to see precisely where I stand." He turned and carefully closed the door.

Marvin went to the stove and calmly poured himself a cup of coffee. "Well," he remarked, with a laugh, "won't you have a chair and some coffee first – you can shoot just as easily sitting down."

Harper, his hand at his belt, glared at him.

"You don't think I mean business, do you?" he said, grimly. "Or perhaps you think you have beaten me to it, eh? Now what sort of man are you and what nice little game is this you are playing? Here I buy a grove of timber from you, and while my back is turned you sell the property, timber and all, to the railroad! I want an explanation and I want it now!"

"You have the facts a bit mixed up," Marvin replied, still smiling and nodding toward the chair, at the same time placing the coffee on the table. "Sit down and we'll talk it over – and I think you'll decide not to shoot!"

Harper, however, was adamant.

"All right," said Marvin. "In the first place, when I sold you the timber you said you were going to cut it at once – "

"Correct – correct! But something came up and I could not attend to it – and I don't see how that exculpates you in the least!"

"It doesn't," replied Marvin, adding, as he took up his coffee, "if you won't join me, I'll have to go it alone, as this is the first I've had since morning. Well, when I sold you that timber I never thought I would sell any of this property. My mother loved every inch of it. It was our dream that when I received my diploma and established a practice we would make a home here; but she was taken sick – "

"Yes, I remember your telling me about her being in the hospital." Harper's voice softened a bit.

Marvin was silent a moment. "I took her to San Francisco. She died there."

Harper fumbled with the buckle of his belt. His heart went out to the younger man; yet he felt that right was on his side. He picked up a picture of Mrs. Marvin that stood in a small frame on the table. "I'm deeply sorry," he said, softly. "I did not know."

"There is no need to apologize," Marvin answered, quietly. "You have a perfect right to demand an explanation about that timber." With a last swallow of coffee, he put down his cup and stood squarely facing Harper, and his own expression was grim as he continued:

"When we got to San Francisco – mother and I – a lawyer in whose office I had been a student came to the hospital and got into her good graces. He had taken a great interest in me and I would have taken an oath as to his integrity. But when I came up here to sell you the timber – and mother and I needed the money desperately at the time – this man took advantage of my absence to persuade mother to deed him fifty acres, nearly the whole of the property! It was to be a pleasant surprise for me when I returned! Instead of cash, he gave her a batch of stock in the Golden Gate Land Company, stock of which I have been unable to dispose. And the next day he resold the property to the Pacific Railroad Company for three or four times the price represented by the stock he gave mother. I found that out later, of course. Well, after mother's death I hurried up here, only to discover that you had not cut the timber I sold you before the property was sold. I got busy at once and have been staying on here until the gang out there finished cutting it and piling it on what is left to me of the property. Your timber is ready for you, Mr. Harper, any time you are ready to haul it away."

It was Harper's turn to put out his hand. "I'm mighty sorry I misunderstood you, Marvin!" he exclaimed, as the latter returned the clasp. "But look here! Can't you do anything about this fellow, this lawyer? What's the rascal's name?"

"Raymond Thomas. He's up in these parts quite frequently of late. Made himself solid with some dear friends of mine, I'm sorry to say, and I'm worried about it. I can't help believing that he's up to some new game, though I can't just see what it is. He's a remarkably smooth customer. It's very hard to pin anything on him. I'm going to make him disgorge my property if I can, but I shall have a difficult legal fight on my hands."

Harper nodded understandingly. "I see, I see – covered himself cleverly. I don't know the gentleman, but I'll be only too glad to do anything to help you, Marvin." He took a turn about the room, while Marvin leaned against the table. "I'll have the timber hauled away at once. I didn't have it cut, myself, because – well, I've had a lot of trouble myself. Had a strike at the mill, and – oh, hang it all! It's my wife, Marvin! She's packed up in a hurry and left me!"

He flung himself into the chair and stared ruefully, comically, at the younger man, who, not knowing what to say, said nothing.

"I didn't mind the strike so much, nor this timber mix-up!" Harper rushed on, with the air of a man who must tell some one or explode. "It was my wife, young man! It's her being so unreasonable that makes me sore. I bought her a present when I was East and had it shipped to the office. It happened to arrive about the time Mrs. Harper was to come to the office in the machine to take me home, and she walked in just as I was showing it to my stenographer. Of course my wife thought I bought it for Miss Robbins, and – well, what's the use of talking about it?"

With a gesture of dismissal for the subject, he stood up and took out a wallet.

"How much do I owe you?" he asked. "I figured it would cost about eight hundred dollars to do that job out there – "

Marvin put up a deprecatory hand. "I can't take it now, Mr. Harper," he interrupted. "You haven't got that timber yet, and – "

"The railroad will have some job on its hands to get it away from me!" said Harper. "And unless they do I owe you eight hundred dollars – do you understand?"

A faint noise outside broke into their conversation. With a warning gesture, Marvin tiptoed to the door and put his ear against it. Harper, thinking that it might be a railroad employee who had come to eavesdrop in order to report their plans, stood with his jaw set, his hand on the revolver at his belt. With a quick movement Marvin jerked open the door.

Instead of a railroad employee, or the sheriff, it was only Lightnin' Bill Jones who stood there, leaning idly against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets. He ambled silently into the middle of the room, his half-shut eyes blinking in the sudden light.

"I guess I must 'a' been out there some time, come to think of it," he remarked, meditatively, and addressing himself to the ceiling, quite as if he were alone. Then he turned carelessly to Marvin.

"I knocked, too – but I guess maybe you wasn't expectin' me."

CHAPTER IV

With a laugh, Marvin shut the door. "It's all right," he said, winking at Harper. Smiling, he went up to Bill and swung him around to face him.

"Hello, Lightnin'!" he exclaimed. "I'm mighty glad to see you. What do you mean by staying away from me all this time? And you were so quiet and mysterious outside there that we thought some one was spying on us!"

"I was a spy once – with Buffalo Bill," said Lightnin', conversationally. He stared interestedly at Harper. "Friend of yours, John?"

"This is Lightnin' Bill Jones, Mr. Harper. This is the gentleman I sold that timber to, Bill." The two men acknowledged the introduction.

"Have you had any supper, Bill?" Marvin asked, resuming operations at the stove. "If not, you'd better stop and have it with me."

Bill shook his head with an air of importance. "No; can't stop. Got to be home at the hotel at supper-time to see that everythin's goin' right. What time is it now?"

"Seven o'clock."

Bill shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, meditated, and announced: "Well, maybe they can get along without me. I got everythin' sys-sys-matized."

Marvin glanced at him quickly. "Bill, I'm afraid you've been having a drink or two?"

"Nope. Nope!" Bill repeated, with the debonair innocence of a mischievous and prevaricating school-boy. "I was just sayin' good-by to the boys out there." He signified with a jerk of his head that the lumberjacks were responsible if he seemed in any way elated. "You see, they're breakin' up camp – an' I didn't want to hurt their feelin's, as they're all friends o' mine."

Harper, who had resumed his seat in the chair, glanced at Marvin.

"Does our friend Bill know – what we were talking about?"

"Everything!" said Marvin, readily. "Rest easy, Mr. Harper – you'll never find a better friend, nor a more trustworthy one, than Lightnin'. But, surely, you have heard of his hotel, haven't you?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Then I guess you're the only man what 'ain't!" said Bill, emphatically, and gazing at the ceiling and thoroughly enjoying the fact that he was the subject of the conversation.

Rapidly Marvin sketched the conception and success of the Calivada Hotel. "It was a real idea – "

"It was my idea," put in Bill, conversationally.

"It certainly was, Bill!" Marvin went on. "And the new hotel is a big success! You see, the state line runs right through the middle of the house – through the center of the lobby, in fact! There are two separate desks, one on the California side and one on the Nevada side. Women began to arrive, and they all wanted rooms on the Nevada side – and they wanted them for six months!"

Harper roared with laughter. "The Reno divorce brigade!" he exclaimed.

Bill fairly beamed at the attention his affairs were drawing. He sat down on the corner of the table and grinned at Harper, while Marvin went on:

"Exactly! Everybody knows what a woman goes to Reno for, but at Bill's hotel she can get a room on the Nevada side and still make her friends believe that she is at a California resort!"

Again Harper laughed. "A corking good business idea!" he said. "And so it was your idea, Mr. Jones? I congratulate you! I suppose you have been out West here a long time?"

"Sure – came out in the gold excitement," replied Bill, calmly.

Harper stole an amused glance at Marvin. "Why, the gold excitement was away back in forty-nine!"

"Well, they was still excited when I got here!" Bill gazed up at the ceiling, his half-shut eyes hiding their twinkle.

"It's too bad you didn't happen to be one of the lucky ones," Harper consoled him, arising from his chair.

"Lucky?" Bill scratched his head under his ragged slouch-hat. "Say, I located more claims than any man what ever came out here! I been a civil engineer."

The table was not a sufficient throne for Bill, so he slipped down from it and went close to Harper, peering up at him.

"You ought to be a rich man, Mr. Jones!"

"Always cheated out of my share." Bill shook his head sadly. "Crooked partners was the reason."

"Couldn't you do anything to them?"

"I shot some, put all the others in the penitentiary – all but one."

"What happened to him?"

"He died before I got him."

"Died of fright, perhaps?"

"I guess so."

Harper took his hat from the table, clapped Bill on the back, and said, laughingly, "I think I'll get out before you tell me any more!"

Marvin urged him to have a bite of supper, but Harper declined, explaining, as he went to the door, that he had to be in Truckee in two hours, and that it would take him fully that time to make it in his car. Bill, anxious to retain his audience, added his entreaty to Marvin's. That failing, he followed Harper to the door, searching for an excuse to hinder his leaving.

Harper paused at the door. "Well, Marvin," he said, "I'm going to send the trucks down here to-morrow and start hauling. And you might as well disappear from here for a while; then, if there's any kick, no one here will know anything about it. I'll keep you posted. Are you sure you don't want that eight hundred now?" He took out his wallet and again tried to make Marvin take the money, but again Marvin refused.

Bill had been listening to every word. Now he seemed to have hit on a way to detain Harper and at the same time prove his own personal importance. As Harper shook hands with Marvin, Bill took an envelop from his pocket. Drawing a paper from it, he offered it to Harper.

"If you want to get rid of some of that money," he remarked, easily, "maybe you'd cash that check for me."

Harper, examining it, saw that it was a government check. "Oh, a pension check! So you were in the war?"

"First man to enlist!"

Smiling, Harper handed him the check to "indorse" – which happened to be a new word on Bill.

"Write your name on the back of it," said Harper.

"I always do that," said Bill, as he complied. Then he held the check up to the light, pointing to the signatures on its face. "See all them names," he asked, "Secretary of the Treasury, and all of 'em?"

Harper nodded wonderingly.

"Well, they ain't no good at all – not unless I sign it!" said Bill, triumphantly.

Harper laughed; handed Bill the money for the check, and, with a final "Good-night!" hurried out of the door. Bill poked his head out, watching him crank his machine and drive away in the moonlight.

When the car was out of sight Bill turned back into the middle of the room and stood watching Marvin, who had sat down and was eating his delayed supper.

"Better join me, Bill," Marvin again invited, and at the same time noting a change in the old man's manner, now that they were alone.

"No," Bill said; "I had mine with the boys outside, as I told you – but I'll have a drink with you, John," he added, hesitatingly, knowing Marvin's disapproval of his drinking.

"I haven't anything in the house, Bill," said Marvin, as he went on eating. "You know that."

Bill edged slowly toward the table, his hand in the back pocket of his baggy, slouchy trousers. "Yes, you have," he remarked, producing a half-filled flask.

"You mean you have," Marvin replied, trying not to smile. "And you've had enough for to-night. Put it away, Bill, and promise me not to drink any more to-night."

"All right, John," said Bill, unconcernedly, and putting the flask back in his pocket. "I promise – an' I 'ain't never broke a promise yet! I'll keep this for – for emergencies. Say, Oscar told me the railroad had the sheriff after you. You remember the last promise what I give you?"

"What was that, Lightnin'?"

"That if they goes to court, I'll come an' be a witness. I can swear them trees was cut when you sold the property, an' I'll – "

"No, Bill!" said Marvin, putting down his knife and fork and staring at the old man, whose half-shut eyes had the suggestion of a flash in them. "No; I couldn't let you swear to anything like that."

"You can't help yourself – I got a right to swear to anythin' I want!" There was an unexpected finality in Bill's usually drawling voice.

"But I haven't got to prove when those trees were cut," said Marvin.

"I know it," Bill responded; then, catching the smiling doubt in the other's eyes, he added, "I was a lawyer once."

"Then why don't you practise?" asked Marvin, inwardly chuckling.

"Don't need no practice." And Bill resorted to his bag of tobacco and papers, rolling himself a cigarette. By this time Marvin had finished his meal.

"Look here, Lightnin'," he said, as he cleared the table, "you seem to have something on your mind. How are things going up at your place? Anybody at home know that you are here?"

"Not unless they're mind-readers."

"I thought so. Well?"

"It's a wonder you 'ain't come up to take a look yourself," Bill countered. "You 'ain't even been up to – to see Millie," he added, thoughtfully.

Marvin flushed. "That's true, Bill," he said, slowly. "But I've been mighty busy with this timber here, as you know; and, besides – well, Millie seems to be a bit interested elsewhere."

"That's just the trouble, I guess," said Bill, settling himself on the corner of the table.

Marvin looked at him quickly. "What do you mean, Bill?" he demanded.

Lightnin' crossed his legs, took a final puff of his cigarette, and let it drop from his fingers.

"Oh, there ain't nothin' much to that, John!" he replied. "Nothin' to worry about. But it's what lays back o' that."

"For the Lord's sake stop talking in riddles, Lightnin'!" Marvin exclaimed. "What lies back of what?"

"Well," said Bill, looking up shrewdly, "this here Thomas has shown his hand – an' we gotter admit, John, that he plays a mighty smooth an' slick game! He wants to buy our place, waterfall an' all."

"So that's it!" Marvin knew that Thomas had been buying up property in the section, and he knew from experience what sort of treatment the sellers were likely to get. That old Bill and his family should now be involved filled him with concern and anger.

"But surely you're not going to sell, Bill!"

Lightnin' looked up, then down. "The property belongs to mother, John; an' this here Thomas person sure knows how to go after what he wants! He made himself solid with mother an' Millie some time ago, as you know. They think he's Santa Claus, or somethin'. Why, he's got mother an' Millie all het up so's they don't know whether they're standin' on their head or feet! Mother's kinder simple about some things, John – but Millie oughter have more sense! He's been tellin' them that this here hotel idea won't pay for long, an' that he's willin' to buy the place at once for a good price. He tells 'em as how they can enjoy themselves an' live comfortable on the proceeds – an' I can have a nice, easy old age! He 'ain't said much to me, o' course – I don't give him a chance to find me around, much. But he's got the womenfolk all fed up, eatin' out o' his yaller gloves, an' crazy to sell. An' – an' mother an' Millie is kinder sore at me 'cause I ain't takin' much interest in the proposition. Say, what was the name o' that feller what acted as agent for the railroad an' bought your property from Thomas when he done you out of it?"

"Hammond, Everett Hammond," said Marvin. "Go on, Bill – I'm listening!"

"Hammond, eh? To – be – sure. Well, Mister Everett Hammond is up at the hotel now, John, with Thomas – Hammond come up in a hurry, an' they got a deed to the property all ready fer mother an' me to sign. Mother's crazy to sign, but I ain't – not yet. An' it seems they gotter have my name on it, to make sure."

"What – you mean to say it has gone that far!" exclaimed Marvin.

"Sure thing," said Bill, rolling another cigarette. "An' say, I happen to think them two – Hammond an' Thomas – has been in cahoots fer some time – got an idea they is actually partners."

"What makes you think that?"

"I was a detective once," said Bill, with a sudden return to his usual manner, as he lighted the cigarette.

Marvin made an impatient gesture. "Hang it! This is really too bad, Bill! Look here, I'll see if I can do anything! I'm going to come up to the hotel to-morrow as soon as I can get away from here! You're not going to sign that deed, are you, Lightnin'?"