s in her eyes, wheeled about, and left him standing at the
gate. At the station the milkmen gathered about him to shake hands. They
were sorry to lose him. In trade some of them had been nipped by him,
but that only proved his worth as a citizen. He waved them a farewell,
and Rollins became a memory.

Upon reaching the city, he went straightway to the Norwegian's cottage.
There was a romping of children within, and it was some time before he
made himself heard. But finally a woman came to the door. He asked for
Gunhild, and was told that she had gone over to see Mrs. Goodwin, but
would not long be absent. He stood for a moment with his hand on the
door. "When she comes back," he said, "tell her that a Yankee from the
West has called. She will understand. Tell her that he will be back
soon."

* * * * *

Jim Mills, railway monarch of the West, sat in his room at a hotel.
Strong, an engine of industry, he could do the work of three men. He had
heard the hum of a multitude of enemies; he had climbed in slippery
places, sliding back, falling, getting up, struggling onward to stand on
the top of the mountain. Without a change of countenance he had
swallowed the decree of many a defeat. In playful tones he had announced
to his associate the news of many a victory. He was a reader of old
books and of young men. His word could build or kill a city. Legislators
traveled with his name in their pockets. Men who cursed him in private
were proud to be seen with him in public. He could clap an enemy on the
shoulder and laugh enmity out of him, but failing, would fight him to an
end that was not sweet. A commercial viking, he was ever thrusting
himself into unexplored territory, a great commander with his scouts
snorting on iron across the plains. He was a generous host and a
captivating companion, but it was said that with all his apparent
heartiness, he never forgave an injury. This, however, was spoken by his
enemies, men whose "real estate" had been slaughtered by him.

Mills was busy in his room at the hotel, for neither at home nor abroad
had he an aimless moment. His dozing on a train involved millions. A
card, bearing a name in pencil, was handed to him.

"I don't know him," he said, glancing at the name.

"He says he must see you on most important business."

"What sort of looking man is he? I can't recall his name."

"Nice enough looking--hard worker, I should think."

"Tell him to com