"barker"--that with
quite admirable perspicacity and accuracy, he was engaged in selecting
from the countless throngs the few possible purchasers for Lucky Lands.
Curious to see what attraction was offered to induce this unanimity of
acquiescence to the barker's invitation, the young man approached.

"What's going on?" he asked.

The barker appraised him with one sweeping glance.

"Stereopticon lecture inside," he snapped, and turned his back.

Bob made his way into a dimly lighted hall. At one end was a slightly
elevated platform above which the white screen was suspended. More
agricultural products supplied the decorations. The body of the hall was
filled with folding chairs, about half of which were occupied. Perhaps a
dozen attendants tiptoed here and there. A successful attempt was
everywhere made to endow with high importance all the proceedings and
appurtenances of the Lucky Land Co.

Bob slipped into a chair. Immediately a small pasteboard ticket and a
fountain pen were thrust into his hand.

"Sign your name and address on this," the man whispered.

Bob held it up, the better to see what it was.

"All these tickets are placed in a hat," explained the man, "and one is
drawn. The lucky ticket gets a free ride to Lucky on one of our weekly
homeseekers' excursions. Others pay one fare for round trip."

"I see," said Bob, signing, "and in return you get the names and
addresses of every one here."

He glanced up at his interlocutor with a quizzical expression that
changed at once to one of puzzlement. Where had he seen the man before?
He was, perhaps, fifty-five years old, tall and slender, slightly
stooped, slightly awry. His lean gray face was deeply lined, his
close-clipped moustache and hair were gray, and his eyes twinkled behind
his glasses with a cold gray light. Something about these glasses struck
faintly a chord of memory in Bob's experience, but he could not catch
its modulations. The man, on his side, stared at Bob a trifle
uncertainly. Then he held the card up to the dim light.

"You are interested in Lucky Lands--Mr. John Smith, of Reno?" he asked,
stooping low to be heard.

"Sure!" grinned Bob.

The man said nothing more, but glided away, and in a moment the flare of
light on the screen announced that the lecture was to begin.

The lecturer, was a glib, self-possessed youth, filled to the brim with
statistics, with which he literally overwhelmed his auditors. His
remarks were accompanie