n that went up that way prospecting some
time ago, and this other party will make four." He paused, smiling.
"Yes, I think you will enjoy this trip to-morrow, after you see who it
is. I'd enjoy it, and I'm thirty years older than you are."

Ben's thought was elsewhere, and he only half heard. "All right--I'll be
here before dawn to-morrow and get the horses. And now will you tell
me--where Steve Morris lives? I've got some business with him."

"Right up the street--clear to the end of the row." McClurg's humor had
quite engulfed him by now, and he chuckled again. "And if I was you,
I'd stop in the door just this side--and get acquainted with your fellow
traveler."

"What's his name?" Ben asked.

"The party is named Neilson."

Unfortunately the name had no mental associations for Ben. It wakened no
interest or stirred no memories. He had read the letter the copy of
which he carried but once, and evidently the name of the man Ezram had
been warned against had made no lasting impression on Ben's mind.

"All right. Maybe I'll look him up."

Ben turned, then made his way up the long, straggly row of unpainted
shacks that marked the village street. A few moments later he was
standing in the Morris home, facing the one friend that Hiram Melville
had possessed on earth.

Ben stated his case simply. He was the partner of Hiram's brother, he
said, and he had been designated to take care of Fenris and such other
belongings as Hiram had left. Morris studied his face with the quiet,
far-seeing eyes of a woodsman.

"You've got means of identification?" he asked.

Ben realized with something of a shock that he had none at all. The
letter he carried was merely a copy without Hiram's signature; besides,
he had no desire to reveal its contents. For an instant he was
considerably embarrassed. But Morris smiled quietly.

"I guess I won't ask you for any," he said. "Hiram didn't leave
anything, far as I know, except his old gun and his pet. Lord knows, I'd
let anybody take that pet of his that's fool enough to say he's got any
claim to him, and you can be sure I ain't going to dispute his claim."

"Fenris, then, is,--something of a problem?"

"The worst I ever had. His old gun is a good enough weapon, but I'm
willing to trust you with it to get rid of Fenris. If you don't turn out
to be the right man, I'll dig up for the gun--and feel lucky at that. I
won't be able to furnish another Fenris, though, and I guess nobody'll
be