ter companion was looking eagerly up at the house.

"I beg your pardon," said the one with gray hair--Bob remembered that
he had been called Fluss--"is this the Saunders home--place, I
believe the natives call it?"

He smiled at Betty, showing several gold teeth, and she shrank behind
Bob and hid the album under her apron.

"Yes," answered Bob civilly. "This is the Saunders farm."

"We'd like to see," the younger man spoke crisply and consulted a
small leather-bound note-book, "Miss Hope Saunders or her sister.
Miss Charity. Please take her our cards."

He held out the two bits of pasteboard and Betty, looking over Bob's
shoulder, was astonished to read, not "Cal Blosser" and "Jack Fluss,"
but "Irving Snead" and "George Elmer." Each card, in the lower
left-hand corner, was lettered "The West Farm Agency."

Bob controlled whatever he was feeling, and handed back the cards
very politely.

"My aunts are both very ill," he said courteously. "They are under
the doctor's care, and it will be impossible for them to see any one
for several weeks."

"But some one must be in charge," urged Blosser, or Irving Snead, as
he seemed to prefer to be known. "Isn't there some older person
about?"

"Miss Gordon and I"--Betty thought that had a very nice sound as Bob
said it--"are taking care of them. It is hard to get help of any kind
because of the demand for workers at the fields and in Flame City. If
we can do anything for you----"

"You can't!" Fluss broke in sharply. "It's very annoying not to be
able to see the Misses Saunders. We've come a good many miles,
thinking this place might suit one of our customers. He has a
delicate daughter, and he wants to get her out on a farm. This part
of Oklahoma ought to be beneficial for lung trouble. I suppose the
old ladies would be willing to sell? The place is much run down and
not worth much, but if our client should take a fancy to it, he would
overlook the poor location and the condition of the buildings. Why
not let us talk to your aunts just a few minutes? You may be the
cause of their losing a sale."

"It is impossible for you to see them," repeated Bob. "They're in bed
and have fever and great difficulty in talking at all. I'm sorry, but
you can not see them to-day."

Blosser took out his handkerchief again and mopped his streaming
face. Betty, who would be kind to any one in distress, had gone in
for a glass of water and brought it out to him.

"Thank you, my dear," h