n thought of Sheba O'Neill as she sat listening to the tales of
Macdonald in Diane's parlor and his gorge rose at the man.

"But Mac had fell on his feet all right," continued Holt. "He got his
start off that claim. Now he's a millionaire two or three times over,
I reckon."

They reached the outskirts of Kamatlah about noon of the third day.
Gordon left Holt at his cabin after they had eaten and went in alone
to look the ground over. He met Selfridge at the post-office. That
gentleman was effusive in his greeting.

"This _is_ a pleasant surprise, Mr. Elliot. When did you get in?
Had no idea you were coming or I'd have asked you for the pleasure
of your company. I'm down on business, of course. No need to tell you
that--nobody would come to this hole for any other reason. Howland and
his wife are the only possible people here. Hope you play bridge."

Elliot played it, but he did not say so. It was his business not to be
drawn into entangling alliances.

"Of course you'll put up with me as my guest," Selfridge flowed on.
"I've wanted to meet you again ever since we were on the Hannah
together."

This was a little too cheeky. Gordon recalled with some amusement how
this tubby little man and his friends had ignored the existence of Sheba
O'Neill and himself for several days.

He answered genially. "Pleasant time we had on the river, didn't we?
Thanks awfully for your invitation, but I've already made arrangements
for putting up."

"Where? There's no decent place in camp except at Howland's. He keeps
open house for our friends."

"I couldn't think of troubling him," countered Gordon.

"No trouble at all. We'll send for your things. Where are they?"

The land agent let him have it right between the eyes. "At Gideon
Holt's. I'm staying with him on his claim."

Wally had struck a match to light a cigarette, but this simple statement
petrified him. His jaw dropped and his eyes bulged. Not till the flame
burned his fingers did he come to life.

"Did you say you were staying--with Gid Holt?" he floundered weakly.

Gordon noticed that his florid face had lost its color. The jaunty
cock-sureness of the man had flickered out like the flame of the charred
match.

"Yes. He offered to board me," answered the young man blandly.

"But--I didn't know he was here--seems to me I had
heard--somewhere--that he was away."

"He was away. But he has come back." Gordon gave the information without
even a flash of mirth in his