atter?" queried Burton sourly.

"I told Clancy I didn't think you'd come. Seein' you sort o' surprised
me."

"What made you think I wouldn't come?" demanded Burton.

"Oh, the way you acted, the way you talked, and your low-down character,
gen'rally."

Burton flushed and scowled. Turning away from Hill he addressed himself
to Clancy.

"Here I am," said he. "Why did you want me to call here this morning?"

"I want to give you a grubstake," answered the motor wizard. "Hiram, if
there are five dry twenty-dollar bills in that heap, give them to
Burton."

Burton started, stared at Clancy, and then watched Hill while he knelt
down and selected five twenties from the drying bills.

"What are you doing this for?" asked Burton falteringly.

"Just trying to give you a little boost in the right direction."

"I'm not entitled to any of that money!"

"I think you are. You earned something last night. Take the hundred,
Burton, and see if you can't be square."

The young fellow's face paled, then the color dyed his cheeks. He stood
looking down at the floor, then presently lifted his head and moved
slightly toward Clancy and half raised his hand. Then he paused, once
more, whirled suddenly, and got out of the room as fast as he could.

Hill had been watching these strange maneuvers in frank amazement. "I
reckon he's locoed," he said, as soon as the door had closed behind
Burton.

"No," returned Clancy, "his gratitude was trying to express itself, but
couldn't quite make it. He has had his lesson, Hiram, and will profit by
it."

"He has profited a hundred dollars' worth, anyhow," commented Hill
dryly. "This Happy Trail of yours, Clancy, is a mighty queer one, seems
to me. For a ways, it follows the one I took in huntin' for dad; then it
branches off and points straight toward Gerald Wynn and his gang. Now
here we are at the end of it--and you're seventy-five hundred to the
good."

Clancy laughed.

"Get me a pencil and a piece of paper, Hiram," he requested.

Hiram found the writing materials and Clancy wrote out the following
message:

"LAFE WYNN, Phoenix, Arizona: Luck. Seventy-five hundred of the missing
fifteen thousand recovered. Cheer up. Happy Trail panning out better
than expected. Still gunning for Hill's father.
CLANCY."

"Right across the street," said Clancy, "is a wireless station. Take
this message over there, Hiram, and let the Hertzian waves get busy with
it at once."

"On the jum