father decked out by his daughter
as King well guessed; hence that gleam of tenderness.

"Gloria's doings," he chuckled. "Sent ahead from San Francisco with
explicit commands. I guess I'd wear a monkey-jacket if she said so,
Mark." But none the less his eyes, as they appraised the rough garb of
his guest, were envious. "I can breathe better, just the same, in boots
like yours," he concluded. He stretched his long arms high above his
head. "I wish I could get out into the woods for a spell with you,
Mark."

And he did not know, did not in the least suspect, that he was failing
the minutest iota in his loyalty to Gloria and her mother. He was
thinking only of their guests, whom he could not quite consider his own.

"The very thing," said King eagerly. "That's just what I want."

But Gaynor shook his head and his thin, aristocratic face was briefly
overcast, and for an instant shadows crept into his eyes.

"No can do, Mark," he said quietly. "Not this time. I've got both hands
full and then some."

King leaned forward in his chair, his hand gripping Gaynor's knee.

"Ben, it's there. I've always known it, always been willing to bet my
last dollar. Now I'd gamble my life on it."

Gaynor's mouth tightened and his eyes flashed.

"Between you and me, Mark," he said in a voice which dropped
confidentially, "I'd like mighty well to have my share right now. I've
gone in pretty deep here of late, a little over my head, it begins to
look. I've branched out where I would have better played my own game and
been content with things as they were going. I----" But he broke off
suddenly; he was close to the edge of disloyalty now. "What makes you so
sure?" he asked.

"I came up this time from Georgetown. You remember the old trail, up by
Gerle's, Red Cliff and Hell Hole, leaving French Meadows and Heaven's
Gate and Mount Mildred 'way off to the left. I had it all pretty much
my own way until I came to Lookout Ridge. And who do you suppose I found
poking around there?"

"Not old Loony Honeycutt!" cried Gaynor. Then he laughed at himself for
allowing an association of ideas to lead to so absurd a thought. "Of
course not Honeycutt; I saw him last week, as you wanted me to, and he
is cabin-bound down in Coloma as usual. Can't drag his wicked old feet
out of his yard. Who, then, Mark?"

"Swen Brodie then. And Andy Parker."

Gaynor frowned, impressed as King had been before him.

"But," he objected as he pondered, "he might hav