eached the conclusion that, if Mr.
Downer's report was entirely satisfactory, there would be no use in
quibbling over the price you and Mr. Hooker have asked. The sum that
you ask for the group of claims that you filed upon is, as you are
aware, an enormous one for unproved mining properties. Still, we wish
to be fair; and on Mr. Downer's glowing report we are going to take a
chance. Therefore, please state your pleasure in the matter of
payments, and arrangements will be made at once."

A great sigh escaped Jo, and tears welled to her dark eyes.

"Thank you, Mr. Floresta," she said. "If you can let us have two
hundred thousand at once, I'm sure payment of the remainder of the
million can be easily arranged to suit both sides."

Mr. Floresta bowed and pushed a buzzer button. A moment or so later a
messenger was on the way to a bank with a check. When he returned he
handed Floresta another check--one certified by the cashier of the
company's banking house.

"Now for yours and Mr. Hooker's signatures, please," said Floresta. "I
have indicated in the transfer papers that the remainder of the million
dollars is to be paid in four semi-annual installments, of two hundred
thousand each, with interest at six per cent on deferred payments. Is
that entirely satisfactory?"

"Entirely," Jo told him, and went to his desk and took up the pen he
handed her.

Five minutes later Hiram and the girl were alone in the anteroom once
more. Hiram took the hands of Jerkline Jo and bent over her.

"Ma'am," he drawled whimsically, "if you'll let me, I'll kiss you now!"

Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet paced back and forth in his little pine
office, his hands behind his back, his brows furrowed. Every little
while he grabbed his nose and straightened it savagely, but each time
it reverted to its list to port again, and Tweet marched on
disconsolately. It was the evening of the next to last day of his
three days of grace. To-morrow Paloma Rancho, Ragtown, and all that
they represented would slip automatically from his control, and he
could not raise a finger to stop it.

Suddenly the door burst open with a bang, and Heine Schultz filled the
little office with the roar of a behemoth:

"Oh, boy! Have you seen it? Just come in with the mail! Los Angeles
papers! Here, read, man! And then get drunk! I'll help you!"

Tweet snatched the paper from him, and his steel-blue eyes bugged at
the glaring headlines:

Gold! Gold!