rincipally specs and good cheer. Yes, thanks. I will have a snack with
you. I thank you for the invitation."

The Overland Riders, who, up to this juncture, had not uttered a word,
burst into laughter, for they recognized that voice, the
never-to-be-forgotten voice and lingo of Jeremiah Long, the Mystery Man.

"You are indeed welcome," greeted Grace, stepping forward to shake hands
with the spectacle man, who put down his grip, mopped his forehead, then
grasped her hand, regarding Grace with twinkling eyes.

"I have just come from Jed Thompson's hospitable home where I have
spectacled the family from the old man himself down to and including the
babe. They told me that down by the cornfield was a bunch of campers,
and I said I'd go down and sell them some specs. I'll introduce myself.
I don't know you," he added in a lower tone. "I'm Jeremiah Long, and
I've already told you the rest. Who are you?"

"We are the Overland Riders, riding through the mountains for
pleasure--and business," answered Grace, quickly catching his intimation
that he did not desire that listening ears should know that he had met
the party before. "After mess you must show us your wares. Perhaps we
may find something that may be useful to us."

"Charmed, I'm sure." The Mystery Man of the mountains placed a hand over
his heart and made a profound bow. He then sat down. "Cream and sugar in
the coffee, please. Thank you. I caught the odor of this coffee before I
rounded the upper corner of the cornfield. My nose frequently leads me
to the good things of earth, and what I don't then see with my own eyes,
the eyes in my case do."

"I would give almost anything to be able to talk a blue streak the way
you do," exclaimed Emma so earnestly that her companions nearly choked
with laughter, and that left the Mystery Man with laughter instead of
words on his lips.

"Yes, but greater even than the gift of gab, is the gift of
'con-centration,'" twinkled Jeremiah Long.

"How did you know about that?" demanded Emma, looking her amazement.

"How did I know? My dear young woman, the essence sent out by
'con-centration' is an imponderable quantity--"

"Imponderable?" wondered Miss Dean. "I like that word, and, though I
don't know what it means, it sounds good."

"As I was saying, the waves sent out by your 'con-centrating' may have,
like the wireless waves, been picked up by my own delicate mental
mechanism and--"

"In other words, Miss Dean overshot the