ip o' the old block a right jubilant little whirl.
Anyhow, he seemed to think so."

Blount did not reach his office in the capital until the afternoon of
the next day. There was an appalling accumulation of letters and
telegrams waiting to be worked over, but he let the desk litter go
untouched and called up the hotel, only to have a small disappointment
sent in over the wire. His father, Mrs. Blount, and their guest had left
for Wartrace Hall some time during the forenoon, and there had been
nothing said in the clerk's hearing about their return to the city.
Blount hung up the receiver, called it one more opportunity missed, and
sat down to attack the desk litter.

Almost the first thing his eye lighted upon was a stenographer's note
stating that Mr. Hathaway, president of the Twin Buttes Lumber Company,
had been in several times, and was very anxious to obtain an interview.
Blount pressed the desk button, and the stenographer came in promptly.

"This man Hathaway; what did he want?" was the brusque question shot at
the clerk.

"I don't know. He said he was stopping at the Inter-Mountain, and he
asked me to let him know when you got back."

"Phone him and tell him I'm here," said Blount; and in due time the
lumber magnate made his appearance.

It was not at all in keeping with Mr. Simon Peter Hathaway's gifts and
adroitness that he should begin by attempting a clumsy bit of acting.

"Well, I'll be shot!" he exclaimed. "So you're the senator's son, are
you? If I'd known that, that day on the train when you were trying to
make me believe you were one of Uncle Sam's men--"

Blount's smile was neither forgiving nor hostile.

"In a way, I had earned what was handed out to me afterward, Mr.
Hathaway, and I'm not bearing malice," he said briefly. "I had no
business to let you get away with the wrong impression, but you were so
exceedingly anxious to identify me with the Forest Service that it
seemed a pity to disappoint you. Since your scoundrels didn't kill me,
we'll set one incident against the other and forget both. What can I do
for you to-day?"

By this time the lumber lord was apparently recovering his breath and
some measure of composure, though he had lost neither.

"Great Jehu!" he lamented. "If you had given me half a hint that you
were Dave Blount's son--but you didn't, you know, and now I'm
handicapped just when I oughtn't to be. I've come to talk business with
you to-day, Mr. Blount, and here you've