ith quiet amusement as he wrote.
As a matter of fact, Hawtrey was in one respect, at least, perfectly
safe in entrusting the money to him. Edmonds had deprived a good many
prairie farmers of their possessions in his time, but he never stooped
to any crude trickery. He left that to the smaller fry. Just then he was
playing a deep and cleverly thought-out game.

He pocketed the check that Hawtrey gave him, and then discussed other
subjects for half an hour or so before he rose to go.

"You might ask them to get my team out. I've some business at Lander's
and have ordered a room there," he said. "I'll send you a line when
there's any change in the market."

CHAPTER XXI

GREGORY MAKES UP HIS MIND

Wheat was still being flung on to a lifeless market when Hawtrey walked
out of the mortgage jobber's place of business in the railroad
settlement one bitter afternoon. He had a big roll of paper money in his
pocket, and was feeling particularly pleased with himself, for prices
had steadily fallen since he had joined in the bear operation Edmonds
had suggested, and the result of it had proved eminently satisfactory.
This was why he had just given Edmonds a further draft on Wyllard's
bank, with instructions to sell wheat down on a more extensive scale. He
meant to operate in earnest now, which was exactly what the broker had
anticipated, but in this case Edmonds had decided to let Hawtrey operate
alone. Indeed, being an astute and far-seeing man, the broker had gone
so far as to hint that caution might be advisable, though he had at the
same time been careful to show Hawtrey only those market reports which
had a distinctly pessimistic tone. Edmonds was rather disposed to agree
with the men who looked forward to a reaction before very long.

Hawtrey glanced about him as he strode down the street. It was wholly
unpaved, and deeply rutted, but the drifted snow had partly filled the
hollows, and it did not look very much rougher than it would have
appeared if somebody had recently driven a plow through it. Along both
sides of it ran a rude plank sidewalk, raised a foot or two above the
ground, so that foot-passengers might escape the mire of the thaw in
spring. Immediately behind the sidewalk squat, weatherbeaten, frame
houses, all of much the same pattern, rose abruptly. On some of the
houses the fronts, carried up as high as the ridge of the shingled roof,
had an unpleasantly square appearance. Here and there a dilapidat