mbled out of bed and opened the
door upon the telegraph agent. That gentleman gazed at him with grim
reproof.

"Holy Moses!" he said; "you're a hell of a tight sleeper! I've been
pounding on this door for an age!" He shoved a sheet of paper under
Braman's nose. "Here's a telegram for you."

Braman took the telegram, scanning it, while the agent talked on,
ramblingly. A sickly smile came over Braman's face when he finished
reading, and then he listened to the agent:

"I got a wire a little after midnight, asking me if that man, Corrigan,
was still in Manti. The engineer told me he was taking Corrigan back to
Dry Bottom at midnight, and so I knew he wasn't here, and I clicked back
'No.' It was from J. C. He must have connected with Corrigan at Dry
Bottom. That guy Trevison must have old Benham's goat, eh?"

Braman re-read the telegram; it was directed to him:

Send my daughter to Trevison with cash in amount of check destroyed
by Corrigan yesterday. Instruct her to say mistake made. No offense
intended. Hustle. J. C. BENHAM.

Braman slipped his clothes on and ran down the track to the private car.
He had known J. C. Benham several years and was aware that when he issued
an order he wanted it obeyed, literally. The negro autocrat of the private
car met him at the platform and grinned amply at the banker's request.

"Miss Benham done tol' me she am not to be disturbed till eight o'clock,"
he objected. But the telegram in Braman's hands had instant effect upon
the black custodian of the car, and shortly afterward Miss Benham was
looking at the banker and his telegram in sleepy-eyed astonishment, the
door of her compartment open only far enough to permit her to stick her
head out.

Braman was forced to do much explaining, and concluded by reading the
telegram to her. She drew everything out of him except the story of the
fight.

"Well," she said in the end, "I suppose I shall have to go. So his name is
'Brand' Trevison. And he won't permit the men to work. Why did Mr.
Corrigan destroy the check?"

Braman evaded, but the girl thought she knew. Corrigan had yielded to an
impulse of obstinacy provoked by Trevison's assault on him. It was not
good business--it was almost childish; but it was human to feel that way.
She felt a slight disappointment in Corrigan, though; the action did not
quite accord with her previous estimate of him. She did not know what to
think of Trevison. But of course any man who would del