to his satisfaction, he found that the trip over the C. G. R.
answered every purpose of a preliminary inspection of the Utah grade
beyond Argentine. For seventeen of the twenty miles the two lines were
scarcely more than a stone's throw apart, and when Biggin joined him
at the junction above Carbonate he had his note-book well filled with
the necessary data.

"Make it, all right?" inquired the friendly bailiff.

"Yes, thanks. Have another cigar?"

"Don't care if I do. Say, that old fire-eater back yonder in the
private car has got a mighty pretty gal, ain't he?"

"The young lady is his niece," said Winton, wishing that Mr. Biggin
would find other food for comment.

"I don't care; she's pretty as a Jersey two-year-old."

"It's a fine day," observed Winton; and then, to background Miss
Carteret effectually as a topic: "How do the people of Argentine feel
about the opposition to our line?"

"They're red-hot; you can put your money on that. The C. G. R.'s a
sure-enough tail-twister where there ain't no competition. Your
road'll get every pound of ore in the camp if it ever gets through."

Winton made a mental note of this up-cast of public opinion, and set
it over against the friendly attitude of the official Mr. Biggin. It
was very evident that the town-marshal was serving the Rajah's purpose
only because he had to.

"I suppose you stand with your townsmen on that, don't you?" he
ventured.

"Now you're shouting: that's me."

"Then if that is the case, we won't take this little holiday of ours
any harder than we can help. When the court business is settled--it
won't take very long--you are to consider yourself my guest. We stop
at the Buckingham."

"Oh, we do, do we? Say, pardner, that's white--mighty white. If I'd
'a' been an inch or so more'n half awake this morning when that old
b'iler-buster's hired man routed me out, I'd 'a' told him to go to
blazes with his warrant. Nex' time I will."

Winton shook his head. "There isn't going to be any 'next time,'
Peter, my son," he prophesied. "When Mr. Darrah gets fairly down to
business he'll throw bigger chunks than the Argentine town-marshal at
us."

By this time the train was slowing into Carbonate, and a few minutes
after the stop at the crowded platform they were making their way up
the single bustling street of the town to the court-house.

"Ever see so many tin-horns and bunco people bunched in all your
round-ups?" said Biggin, as they elbowed through