dernity of the elevator, the brass-buttoned
boy, and the hotel itself brought back the last time he had seen Mr.
Sloan, and the day he had parted from his father in that office on
Wall Street. He found the Wall Street veteran grayer, much older, and
more kindly, when he was ushered into the room to receive his
greeting. He subsided into a chair, but his father's old-time friend
protested.

"Stand up!" he commanded, "and turn around, young fellow, so I can see
whether you have filled out. Humph! You'll do, I guess, physically. I
don't think I should want to have any trouble with you. You look as if
you could hold your own most anywhere. I'm glad. Now, sit down, and
tell me all about the mine."

He listened while Dick went into details of the work, sparing none of
the misfortunes and disappointments, and telling of the new method
employed. He was interrupted now and then by a shrewd question, an
exclamation, or a word of assent, and, after he had finished the
account, said: "Well, that is all there is to report. What do you
think?"

"Who is Thomas W. Presby?" Sloan's question was abrupt.

"The owner of the Rattler, the mine next to us."

"He is?" the question was explosive. "Ah, ha! The moth in the closet,
eh? So that accounts for it! I spent a hundred dollars, then, to good
purpose, it seems to me!"

Dick looked an intent and wondering question.

"An agent here in Seattle wrote me that they had written you, making
an offer of sixty thousand dollars for the property--yes--the same one
you wrote me about. He said they had reason to believe I was the
financial backer for the mine, and that they now wished to deal with
me, inasmuch as you might be carried away by youthful enthusiasm to
squandering my hard-earned cash. I wrote back that your judgment
satisfied me. Then, just before I left, I got a flat offer of a
hundred thousand dollars for the property in full, or seventy-five
thousand for my share alone. It set me to thinking, and wondering if
some one wasn't trying to cut your feet from under you. So, having
business in Portland, I came on up here, and got after this agent."

Dick had a chill of apprehension. He knew before the loyal old man had
proceeded half-way what to expect.

"It cost me a hundred dollars in entertainment, and a lot of apparent
readiness to talk business, to get him confidential with me. Then I
got the name of the would-be purchaser, under injunctions of secrecy,
because those were the ag