't sell that kind."

"People trust you here," said David.

If the man winced or had reason to do so, he betrayed no sign of it. "I
hope so," he said. "You have known me all my life. If I ever want to
work any skin game I'll go out of the place where all my friends are.
This mine of which I speak is near the mine at Goldfield and some of the
veins struck recently are richer than those of the renowned Goldfield.
They are still striking deeper veins. I have sold stock in that mine to
fifteen people in this town."

He mentioned some of the residents of Greenwald; people who, in David's
opinion, were too shrewd to be entangled in any nefarious investment.
The names impressed David--if those fifteen put their money into it he
might as well be the sixteenth.

In a little while David Eby walked home with a paper representing the
ownership of a number of shares of a certain gold mine in Nevada, while
Caleb Warner patted musingly a check for five hundred dollars.

Mother Bab wondered at her boy's philosophical acceptance of his crop
failure. "I'm glad you take it this way," she said as he came in,
whistling, from his trip to Greenwald.

"What's the use of crying?" he answered gaily, though he felt far from
gay. Had he been too hasty? Doubts began to assail him. It was going to
be hard to deceive his mother, she was always so eager for his
confidence. But, then, he was doing it for her sake as much as for his
own. The war clouds were drawing nearer and nearer to this country; if
the time came when America would enter the war he would have to answer
the call for help. If the stock turned out to be what the other wise men
of the town felt confident it would be then the added money would be a
boon to his mother while he was away in the service of his country--and
yet--it was a great risk he was running. Why had he done it? The old
lines of the poem came back to him and burned into his soul,

"O what a tangled web we weave
When first we practice to deceive."

Then, again, swift upon that thought came the old proverb, "Nothing
venture, nothing gain." Thus he was torn between doubt and satisfaction,
but it was too late to undo the deed. He was the owner of the stock and
Caleb Warner had the five hundred dollars!

CHAPTER XV

THE FLEDGLING'S FLIGHT

PHOEBE found the packing of her trunk a task not altogether without pain.
As she gathered her few treasures from her room a feeling of desolation
seemed