lease our ground and share the profits on the oil."

"Well, I'm kinder in favor of selling out if we get the chance," urged
Mr. Tucker in a high, querulous voice. "To sell on a rising market is
always a pretty good plan."

"After we run up ag'in' them city fellows," said Mat Lucas, "I'll be
surprised if we git as much out as we put in."

"Gentlemen," protested Mr. Opp, "this here ain't the attitude to assume
to the affair. To my profoundest belief there is a fortune in these here
lands. The establishment of 'The Opp Eagle' has, as you know, been a
considerable tax on my finances, but everything else I've got has gone
into this company. It's a great and glorious opportunity, one that I
been predicting and prophesying for these many years. Are we going to
sell out to this party, and let them reap the prize? No; I trust and
hope that such is not the case. In order to have more capital to open up
the mines, I advocate the taking of them in."

"I bet they been advocating the taking of us in," chuckled Jimmy.

"Well, my dear friends, suppose we vote on it," suggested the preacher.

"Reach yer hand back there in the press, Mr. Opp, and git the
lead-pencil," said Jimmy, without moving.

"The motion before the house," said Mr. Opp, "is whether we will sell
out or take 'em in. All in favor say 'Aye.'"

There was a unanimous vote in the affirmative, although each member
interpreted the motion in his own way.

"Very well," said Mr. Opp, briskly; "the motion is carried. Now we got
to arrange about entertaining the party."

Mr. Tucker, whose brain was an accommodation stopping at each station,
was still struggling with the recent motion when this new thought about
entertainment whizzed past. The instinct of the landlord awoke at the
call, and he promptly switched off the main line and went down the side
track.

"Gallop was here while ago," Jimmy was saying, with a satisfied glance
at Mr. Tucker; "said they wanted me to take keer of 'em. I'll 'commodate
all but the preachers. If there are any preachers, Mr. Tucker kin have
'em. I have to draw the line somewheres. I can't stand 'em
'Brother-Fallowsing' me. Last time the old woman corralled one and
brought him home, he was as glad to find me to work on as she'd 'a' be'n
to git some fruit to preserve. 'Brother,' he says, reaching out for my
hand, 'do you ever think about the awful place you are going to when you
die?' 'You bet,' says I; 'I got more friends there than anywher