been unusual. He also realised that, off
somewhere in the sphere of imponderable influences, the effect when his
hand clasped the big man's hand had been exactly that of the clashing of
two swords.

"Oh, God love you, there's no black magic about my knowing you for
Steering--only stranger that's been expected in Canaan for six weeks!"
cried Madeira, "and as for your guessing that I'm Madeira, you don't
deserve a bit of credit for it. My sign's out." His manner conveyed that
his sign was quite as much his personality as the black and gold letters
on the window. "Yes, I'm Madeira, and you are Steering, and we both
might as well own up to it. And now what's kept you so long on the road?
How'd you manage to put in a whole week between here and Springfield?"
Madeira seated himself in a swivel chair in front of his desk and eyed
his visitor with that aggressive geniality, that tremendous sense of
himself, warm and vivid in his face and manner. And, as in the moment
when he had faced Missouri from the top of the Tigmore Hills, Steering
had a feeling that he was being claimed, absorbed.

"Why, the explanation is of the simplest. At the very last minute,
there at Springfield, too late to get a word of advice out to you, I
fell in with some fellows who were going to ride across country toward
the Canaan Tigmores, and I joined them. They gave out at Bessietown, but
I've come every foot of the way over the Ridge on horseback, and alone
at that. I wanted to see Missouri, get acquainted with the home of my
ancestors, at close range, as it were."

Madeira chuckled. "God bless you, you certainly went in at the back door
to do it," he said. Madeira's God-bless-you's and God-love-you's were
valuable crutches to his conversation. With them and his bluster he
seemed able to cover a great deal of ground.

"And then I didn't hurry," went on Steering, "because I thought, from
what you wrote me, that it would, without doubt, be some weeks before
that amiable relative of mine could be dragged around to any real
attention to our projects."

"Ah, but that's where you missed out!" cried Madeira, a great ring of
triumph in his voice. He crossed his legs, leaned back in his chair, and
pushed out his chest. "That's where you didn't know C. Madeira. Young
man, I've been hammering at Bruce Grierson night and day ever since I
got you interested in this scheme,"--Steering looked at Madeira with a
little quick motion of inquiry, but Madeira's arrange