want catchem money send my uncle so he, and my wifee, my
mama, all go away other place.

"If I no send, they die,--see! I need one hundled dollar. I no have
him. You give me one hundled dollar. I pay back one, two, thlee month
after I work bank."

Jim shook his head.

"Yes!--you givem me. I pay back, sure!"

"No, siree,--not a darned cent! Your uncle, he fool you, Sing."

Sing paid no attention to the remark.

"You no givem?"

"No!"

"All lightee. I guess me tly Mayor Blenchfield. He know me heap good.
Maybe he lendem."

And off he went.

"A fat chance he has of getting a hundred dollars from Brenchfield at
this stage of the game," exclaimed Jim.

"But what's the crazy lunatic's idea, anyway?" asked Phil.

"Oh, this raining pigs' hair and blood stuff is an old gag. Something
like the Spanish prisoner business. It is just a put-up job by
relatives in China to get money out of their superstitious friends
over here. They play on one another's credulity for a fare-you-well.

"And he fancies he is now a Canadian. Gee!--but we're the easy marks
in this country:--Chinks, Japs, Hindoos, Doukhobors, niggers and God
only knows what else. It sure is the melting pot. But some of them
will have a great time melting,--believe me!"

Phil went back to his desk and opened up the day's mail. In it there
was a letter from Eileen, full of love, but overloaded with sorrow,
for it contained the disquieting news that her father had been taken
suddenly ill in the House and had had to be conveyed home. The doctors
at Victoria had recommended a speedy return to the Valley, and Eileen
and her father were taking that advice and following by the next day's
train.

Phil drove down to meet them on arrival, and he was terribly shocked
to see the change that had come over the recently hale, hearty,
healthy, ruddy-complexioned old rancher and politician. He seemed
absolutely broken down and full of anxiety to be in his own home. He
talked all the way there in a most disjointed manner regarding his
property and his business affairs, which to Phil was anything but
reassuring, for John Royce Pederstone, although careless in regard to
many things, was for the most part shrewd and at all times polished,
connected and logical in his speech and argument.

Poor little Eileen was broken-hearted. Phil tried hard to make light
of her father's condition, but she remained inconsolable; he
endeavoured to convince her that business affairs might