bookcase, produced a cheque-book and a pen and ink. He
made out a cheque for the amount named, and passed it across the
table. His only remark was--

"Your luck may change. Pay me when you like. No, don't bother about a
receipt."

Hervey seized upon the piece of paper. He was almost too staggered to
tender his thanks. Iredale in his quiet way was watching, nor was any
movement on his companion's part lost to his observant eyes. He had
"sized" this man up, from the soles of his boots to the crown of his
head, and his contempt for him was profound. But he gave no sign. His
cordiality was apparently perfect. The five thousand dollars were
nothing to him, and he felt that the giving of that cheque might save
those at Loon Dyke Farm from a world of anxiety and trouble. Somehow
behind that impassive face he may have had some thoughts of the coming
of a future time when he would be able to deal with this man's mode of
life with that firmness which only relationship could entitle him
to--when he could personally relieve Hephzibah of the responsibility
and wearing anxiety of her worthless son's doings. In the meantime,
like the seafaring man, he would just "stand by."

"I can't thank you enough, George," said Hervey at last. "You have got
me out of an awkward situation. If I can do you a good turn, I will."
Iredale detected a meaning emphasis in the last remark which he
resented. "Some day," the man went on; "but there--I will say no
more."

"No, I shouldn't say anything. These things happen in the course of a
lifetime, and one mustn't say too much about them." The two men then
smoked on in silence.

Presently Hervey rose to go. It was nearly eight o'clock.

"Well," said Iredale, as he prepared to bid his guest good-bye, "we
have had a good afternoon's sport. Now you know my coverts you must
come over again. Come whenever you like. If I am unable to go with
you, you are welcome to shoot over the land by yourself. There are
some grand antelope about the place."

"Thanks. I shall certainly come again. And--well, when are you coming
over to us again? I can't offer you any shooting."

"Don't trouble," smiled Iredale.

Hervey saw the "boy" Chintz leading his horse round.

"You might tell your mother," the rancher went on, "that I'll come
to-morrow to read over that fencing contract she spoke about for
her."

Hervey leered round upon him.

"Will it do if I tell Prue instead?"

"Certainly not." Iredale's face was qui