pocket a list of the town's investors in mining stock, together with the
amounts of their investments. He was not seen again for several days.

Two days later Scattergood appeared in the lobby of the Mansion House,
in the county seat. He scrutinized the register, and found, to his
satisfaction, that a Mr. Bowman of Boston was occupying room 106. Mr.
Bowman had signed the hotel register in Coldriver as Mr. Baxter, also of
Boston. Scattergood seated himself in a chair and lighted one of the
cigars which made his presence so undesirable in an inclosed space. He
appeared to be taking a nap.

Fifteen minutes after Scattergood began to nod, Sam Bangs, a politician
with some strength in the rural districts, came down the stairs in
company with a young man of prepossessing appearance, and clothing which
did not strike the beholder as either too gaudy or too stylish. Indeed
the young man impressed the world as being a sober, conservative person
in whose judgment it would be well to place confidence.

When Bangs saw Scattergood he stopped and whispered a moment to his
companion, who nodded. They approached Scattergood, and Bangs touched
him on the shoulder.

"Mr. Baines," he said, "I want you should meet my friend Mr. Bowman.
Mr. Bowman's a broker. Been buyin' some stocks off'n him--or calculate
to. I knowed you done consid'able investing so I took the liberty."

Scattergood looked drowsily at the young man. "Set," he said. "Set and
have a cigar."

The young Mr. Bowman accepted the cigar, but, after a glance at it,
thrust it into his mouth unlighted. The conversation began with national
politics, swung to crops, and veered finally to the subject of
investments. Mr. Bowman, backed in his statements by Mr. Bangs, spoke to
Scattergood of a certain mine whose stock could be had for a song, but
whose riches in mineral, about to be reached by a certain shaft or drift
or tunnel, were fabulous. Scattergood was interested. An appointment was
made for further discussion.

The appointment was kept that evening, in the same lobby, and Mr.
Bowman, while finding more than ordinary difficulty in convincing this
fat country merchant, did eventually succeed in bringing him to a point
of enthusiasm.

"Looks good," said Scattergood. "Calc'late a feller could make a
killin'. I'm a-goin' into it hair, hide, and hoofs. Figger me f'r not
less 'n five thousand dollars' wuth of it. Ought to make me fifty
thousand if it makes a cent."

"You're