morrow,
Mr. West?"

"No. I got business at the stockyards, but I can put it off."

"Then I'll get tickets for Omaha on the flyer. Graham will take his
private car. We'll break in and put this up to him. He was friendly to
our proposition before he got the wrong slant on it. If he's open-minded,
as Mr. West says he is--"

Crawford slapped an open hand on his thigh. "Say, you get the _best_
ideas, son. We'll do just that."

"I'll check up and make sure Graham's going on the flyer," said the young
man. "If we fall down we'll lose only a day. Come back when we meet the
night train. I reckon we won't have to get tickets clear through to
Omaha."

"Fine and dandy," agreed West. "We'll sure see Graham if we have to bust
the door of his car."

CHAPTER XXX

ON THE FLYER

West, his friends not in evidence, artfully waylaid Graham on his way to
the private car.

"Hello, Henry B. Sorry I couldn't see you yesterday," the railroad
builder told West as they shook hands. "You taking this tram?"

"Yes, sir. Got business takes me East."

"Drop in to see me some time this morning. Say about noon. You'll have
lunch with me."

"Suits me. About noon, then," agreed West.

The conspirators modified their plans to meet a new strategic situation.
West was still of opinion that he had better use his card of entry to get
his friends into the railroad builder's car, but he yielded to Dave's
view that it would be wiser for the cattleman to pave the way at
luncheon.

Graham's secretary ate lunch with the two old-timers and the conversation
threatened to get away from West and hover about financial conditions in
New York. The cattleman brought it by awkward main force to the subject
he had in mind.

"Say, Horace, I wanta talk with you about a proposition that's on my
chest," he broke out.

Graham helped himself to a lamb chop. "Sail in, Henry B. You've got me at
your mercy."

At the first mention of the Jackpot gusher the financier raised a
prohibitive hand. "I've disposed of that matter. No use reopening it."

But West stuck to his guns. "I ain't aimin' to try to change yore mind on
a matter of business, Horace. If you'll tell me that you turned down the
proposition because it didn't look to you like there was money in it,
I'll curl right up and not say another word."

"It doesn't matter why I turned it down. I had my reasons."

"It matters if you're doin' an injustice to one of the finest young
fellows I know," in