ff to market at a figure which will send its stock up and
up. And you are said to own a considerable amount of that stock. So why
not drop the harbor item and substitute my river slice? Then--' Well, I
guess that's the end of the tale."

He paused and relit his cigar. Captain Cy thoughtfully marked with his
fork on the tablecloth.

"Hum!" he grunted. "That's a very interestin' yarn. Yes, yes! don't
know's I ever heard a more interestin' one. I presume likely there ain't
a mite of proof that it's true?"

"Not an atom. I told you it was a fairy tale. And I mustn't be quoted in
the matter. Honestly, the most of it is guess work, at that. But perhaps
a 'committee of one,' dropping a hint at home, might at least arouse
some uncomfortable questioning of a certain great man. That's about all,
though. Proof is quite another thing."

The captain pondered. He was fully aware that the unpopularity of the
"committee" would nullify whatever good its hinting might do.

"Humph!" he grunted again. "It's one thing to smell a rat and another to
nail its tail to the floor. But I'm mighty obliged to you, all the same.
And I'll think it over hard. Say! I can see one thing--you don't take a
very big shine to Heman yourself."

"Not too big--no. Do you?"

"Well, I don't wake up nights and cry for him."

Everdean laughed.

"That's characteristic," he said. "You have your own way of putting
things, Captain, and it's hard to be improved on. Atkins has never done
anything to me. I just--I just don't like him, that's all. Father never
liked him, either, in the old days; and yet--and it's odd, too--he was
the means of the old gentleman's making the most of his money."

"He? Who? Not Heman?"

"Yes, Heman Atkins. But, so far as that goes, father started him toward
wealth, I suppose. At least, he was poor enough before the mine was
sold."

"What are you talkin' about? Heman got his start tradin' over in the
South Seas. Sellin' the Kanakas glass beads and calico for pearls and
copra--two cupfuls of pearls for every bead. Anyhow, that's the way the
yarn goes."

"I can't help that. He was just a common sailor who had run away from
his ship and was gold mining in California. And when he and his partner
struck it rich father borrowed money, headed a company, and bought them
out. That mine was the Excelsior, and it's just as productive to-day
as it ever was. I rather think Atkins must be very sorry he sold. I
suppose, by right, I should be v