or me," Kelley instantly replied: "All right, boy.
Spit it out. What's wanted?"

"I'm in a devil of a hole. My mother and my little sister are coming
through here on their way to the Coast. They're going to stop off to see
me. I want you to let me in on a partnership in your mine just for a
day. They'll only stay a few hours, but I want to have them think I'm
making my living in a mine. You get me?"

"Sure thing, Fred. When are they due?"

"To-morrow."

"All right. You get a lay-off from your boss and we'll pull the deal
through. I'll tell my old partner I've taken you in on my share and
he'll carry out his part of it. He's a good deal of a bonehead, but no
talker. But you'll have to put on some miner's duds and spend to-day
riding around the hills to get a little sunburn. You don't look like a
miner."

"I know it. That worries me, too."

Having given his promise, Kelley seemed eager to carry the plan through
successfully. He was sorry for the youth, but he was sorrier for the
mother who was coming with such fond pride in the success of her
son--for Morse confessed that he had been writing of his "mine" for a
year.

He outfitted his new partner with a pair of well-worn miner's boots and
some trousers that were stained with clay, and laughed when Fred found
them several inches too long.

"You've got to wear 'em. No! New ones won't work. How would it do for
you to be so durn busy at the mine that I had to come down and bring
your people up?"

"Good idea!" Then his face became blank. "What would I be busy about?"

"That's so!" grinned Kelley. "Well, let's call it your day off and
_I'll_ be busy."

"No, I want you to come with me to the train. I need you. You must do
most of the talking--about the mine, I mean. I'll say you're the
practical miner and I'll refer all questions about the business to you.
And we must keep out of the main street. I don't want mother to even
_pass_ the place I've been operating in."

"What if they decide to stay all night?"

"They won't. They're going right on. They won't be here more than five
or six hours."

"All right. We'll find 'em dinner up at Mrs. Finnegan's. If they're like
most tourists they'll think the rough-scuff ways of the Boston House
great fun. By the way, how old is this little sister?"

"Oh, she must be about twenty-two."

"Good Lord!" Kelley was dashed. He thought a minute. "Well, you attend
to her and I'll keep the old lady interested."

"No, you've got