irony of the situation that Steptoe and Van Loo were also obliged
to participate to keep in with their partisans. It was, however, an
opportune diversion to Van Loo, who managed to get nearer the door
leading to the back entrance of the hotel, and to Mr. Jack Hamlin, who
was watching him, as the men closed up to the bar.

The toast was drunk with acclamation, followed by another and yet
another. Steptoe and Van Loo, who had kept their heads cool, were both
wondering if Hamlin's intention were to intoxicate and incapacitate the
crowd at the crucial moment, and Steptoe smiled grimly over his superior
knowledge of their alcoholic capacity. But suddenly there was the
greater diversion of a shout from the road, the on-coming of a cloud of
red dust, and the halt of another vehicle before the door. This time it
was no jaded single horse and dust-stained buggy, but a double team
of four spirited trotters, whose coats were scarcely turned with foam,
before a light station wagon containing a single man. But that man
was instantly recognized by every one of the outside loungers and
stable-boys as well as the staring crowd within the saloon. It was James
Stacy, the millionaire and banker. No one but himself knew that he had
covered half the distance of a night-long ride from Boomville in two
hours. But before they could voice their astonishment Stacy had thrown
a letter to the obsequious landlord, and then gathering up the reins had
sped away to the railroad station half a mile distant.

"Looks as if the Boss of Creation was in a hurry," said one of the eager
gazers in the doorway. "Somebody goin' to get smashed, sure."

"More like as if he was just humpin' himself to keep from getting
smashed," said Steptoe. "The bank hasn't got over the effect of their
smart deal in the Wheat Trust. Everything they had in their hands
tumbled yesterday in Sacramento. Men like me and you ain't goin' to
trust their money to be 'jockeyed' with in that style. Nobody but a man
with a swelled head like Stacy would have even dared to try it on. And
now, by G-d! he's got to pay for it."

The harsh, exultant tone of the speaker showed that he had quite
forgotten Van Loo and Hamlin in his superior hatred of the millionaire,
and both men noticed it. Van Loo edged still nearer to the door, as
Steptoe continued, "Ever since he made that big strike on Heavy Tree
five years ago, the country hasn't been big enough to hold him. But mark
my words, gentlemen, th