st thing he bequeathed to me. But I
expect you to do your part, boy, and by so doing to justify much that
might, otherwise, be questioned. To begin with, as you have just heard,
the sanatorium for cases like your uncle's is to be begun at once. Now
there is a strip of land, which, should it suit our purpose, can be had
at great advantage if taken at once, and for cash. We will run down to
see it this week and then we'll know better where we stand."

"I'd like," Truedale coloured quickly, "to return to Pine Cone for a few
days. I could start at once. You see I left rather suddenly and
brought--"

But McPherson laughed and waved his hand in the wide gesture that
disposed of hope and fear, lesser business and even death itself, at
times.

"Oh! Jim won't tamper with anything. Certainly your traps are safe
enough there. Such things can wait, but this land-deal cannot. Besides
there are men to see: architects, builders, etc. The wishes of your
uncle were most explicit. The building, you recall, was to be begun
within three months of his death. Having all the time there was,
himself, he has left precious little for others."

Again the big laugh and wide gesture disposed of Pine Cone and the
tragic affairs of little Nella-Rose. Unless he was ready to lay bare his
private reasons, Truedale saw he must wait a few days longer. And he
certainly had no intention of confiding in McPherson.

"Very well, doctor," he said after a slight pause, "set me to work. I
want you to know that as far as I can I mean--too late, as you say--to
prove my good intentions at least to--my uncle."

"That's the way to talk!" McPherson rose and slapped Conning on the
back. "I used to say to old Truedale, that if he had taken you more into
his confidence, he might have eased life for us all; but he was timid,
boy, timid. In many ways he was like a woman--a woman hurt and
sensitive."

"If I had only known--only imagined"; Conning was walking toward the
door; "well, at least I'm on the job now, Dr. McPherson."

And then for an hour or two Truedale walked the city streets perplexed
and distraught. He was being absorbed without his own volition. By a
subtle force he was convinced that he was part of a scheme bigger and
stronger than his own desires and inclinations. Unless he was prepared
to play a coward's role he must adjust his thoughts and ideas to
coincide with the rules and regulations of the game of life and men.
With this knowledge other and m