go to the devil and tell him so," said Sanders calmly; "but
you do not pass into these Territories until I have received telegraphic
authority from my chief. Bones, take this man to your hut, and let your
people do what they can for him." And he turned and walked into the
house.

"You shall hear about this," said Mr. Corklan, picking up his baggage.

"This way, dear old pilgrim," said Bones.

"Who's going to carry my bag?"

"Your name escapes me," said Bones, "but, if you'll glance at your
visitin' card, you will find the name of the porter legibly inscribed."

Sanders compressed the circumstances into a hundred-word telegram worded
in his own economical style.

It happened that the Administrator was away on a shooting trip, and it
was his cautious secretary who replied--

"Administration to Sanders.--Duplicate authority here. Let Corklan
proceed at own risk. Warn him dangers."

"You had better go along and tell him," said Sanders. "He can leave at
once, and the sooner the better."

Bones delivered the message. The man was sitting on his host's bed, and
the floor was covered with cigar ash. Worst abomination of all, was a
large bottle of whisky, which he had produced from one of his bags, and
a reeking glass, which he had produced from Bones's sideboard.

"So I can go to-night, can I?" said Mr. Corklan. "That's all right. Now,
what about conveyance, hey?"

Bones had now reached the stage where he had ceased to be annoyed, and
when he found some interest in the situation. "What sort of conveyance
would you like, sir?" he asked curiously.

(If you can imagine him pausing half a bar before every "sir," you may
value its emphasis.)

"Isn't there a steamer I can have?" demanded the man. "Hasn't Sanders
got a Government steamer?"

"Pardon my swooning," said Bones, sinking into a chair.

"Well, how am I going to get up?" asked the man.

"Are you a good swimmer?" demanded Bones innocently.

"Look here," said Mr. Corklan, "you aren't a bad fellow. I rather like
you."

"I'm sorry," said Bones simply.

"I rather like you," repeated Mr. Corklan. "You might give me a little
help."

"It is very unlikely that I shall," said Bones. "But produce your
proposition, dear old adventurer."

"That is just what I am," said the other. He bit off the end of another
cigar and lit it with the glowing butt of the old one. "I have knocked
about all over the world, and I have done everything. I've now a chance
of making a