suddenly and found himself quite mysteriously
the possessor of a trend of reasoning that automatically forced him to
sit up in bed.

Fifteen minutes later, mounted on Panchito, he was cantering up the San
Gregorio, and just as the cook at Bill Conway's camp at Agua Caliente
Basin came to the door of the mess hall and yelled: "Come an' git it or
I'll throw it out," Panchito slid down the gravel cut-bank into camp.

"Where is Mr. Conway?" he demanded of the cook,

The latter jerked a greasy thumb toward the interior of the mess hall,
so, leaving Panchito "tied to the breeze," Don Mike dismounted and
entered.

"Hello there, young feller," Bill Conway roared at him.

"Top o' the morning to you, old dirt-digger," Farrel replied. "Please
deal me a hand of your ham and eggs, sunny side up. How be ye, Willum?"

"R'arin' to go," Conway assured him.

"All right. Pack up and go to-day. You're through on this job."

"Why?"

"I've changed my mind about fighting Parker on this dam deal--and no
profanity intended."

"But--but--"

"But me no buts, even if you are the goat. You're through. I forbid
the bans. The eggs, man! I'm famished. The midnight ride of Paul
Revere was a mere exercise gallop, because he started shortly after
supper, but the morning ride of Mike Farrel has been done on fresh air."

"You're a lunatic. If you knew what I know, Miguel--"

"Hush! I want to ascertain what you know. Bet you a dollar!" He
slammed a dollar down on the table and held his palm over it.

Bill Conway produced a dollar and likewise covered it. "Very well,
son," he replied. "I'll see your dollar. What's the nature of the
bet?"

"I'm betting a dollar you didn't draw the plans for this dam."

Bill Conway flipped his dollar over to his guest.

"I'm betting two dollars!"

Conway took two silver dollars from his vest pocket and laid them on
the table. "And the bet?" he queried.

"I'm betting two dollars the plans were drawn by an engineer in Los
Angeles."

"Some days I can't lay up a cent," the old contractor complained, and
parted with his two dollars.

"I'm betting four dollars!" Farrel challenged.

"See your four dollars," Conway retorted and covered the bet.

"I'm betting that those plans were drawn by the engineer of the South
Coast Power Corporation."

"Death loves a shining mark, Michael, my boy. Hand over that four
dollars."

Farrel produced a five dollar bill. "I'm betting five dollars," he