Come on in, Smoke," he greeted. "Breakfast's ready. Who-all are your
friends?"

Smoke turned about on the threshold. "Well, good-night, you fellows.
Hope you enjoyed your pasear!"

"Hold on a moment, Smoke," Bill Saltman cried, his voice keen with
disappointment. "Want to talk with you a moment."

"Fire away," Smoke answered genially.

"What'd you pay old Sanderson twenty-five thousan' for? Will you answer
that?"

"Bill, you give me a pain," was Smoke's reply. "I came over here for
a country residence, so to say, and here are you and a gang trying to
cross-examine me when I'm looking for peace an' quietness an' breakfast.
What's a country residence good for, except for peace and quietness?"

"You ain't answered the question," Bill Saltman came back with rigid
logic.

"And I'm not going to, Bill. That affair is peculiarly a personal affair
between Dwight Sanderson and me. Any other question?"

"How about that crowbar an' steel cable then, what you had on your sled
the other night?"

"It's none of your blessed and ruddy business, Bill. Though if Shorty
here wants to tell you about it, he can."

"Sure!" Shorty cried, springing eagerly into the breach. His
mouth opened, then he faltered and turned to his partner. "Smoke,
confidentially, just between you an' me, I don't think it IS any of
their darn business. Come on in. The life's gettin' boiled outa that
coffee."

The door closed and the three hundred sagged into forlorn and grumbling
groups.

"Say, Saltman," one man said, "I thought you was goin' to lead us to
it."

"Not on your life," Saltman answered crustily. "I said Smoke would lead
us to it."

"An' this is it?"

"You know as much about it as me, an' we all know Smoke's got something
salted down somewheres. Or else for what did he pay Sanderson the
twenty-five thousand? Not for this mangy town-site, that's sure an'
certain."

A chorus of cries affirmed Saltman's judgment.

"Well, what are we goin' to do now?" someone queried dolefully.

"Me for one for breakfast," Wild Water Charley said cheerfully. "You led
us up a blind alley this time, Bill."

"I tell you I didn't," Saltman objected. "Smoke led us. An' just the
same, what about them twenty-five thousand?"

At half-past eight, when daylight had grown strong, Shorty carefully
opened the door and peered out. "Shucks," he exclaimed. "They-all's
hiked back to Dawson. I thought they was goin' to camp here."

"Don't worry; they'll come sneaki