of directors will bring
together a dozen of the greatest--"

"Where will the meetin' be held?" broke in Anderson, somewhat anxiously.

"New York City, of course. It wouldn't surprise me in the least to see
you elected President of the Corporation, Mr. Crow."

"Oh, gosh-a-mighty! I--I can't accept the honour, Mr. Bacon. It's too
much of a responsibility. Besides, I don't see how I'm goin' to be able
to get away from Tinkletown this fall to attend the meetin'. The County
Fair opens next week at Boggs City, an' the second week in October
there's to be a Baptist revival--"

"You can send in your proxy, Mr. Crow," explained Mr. Bacon. "It will be
all the same to us, you know."

"Well, I guess I better," said Anderson thoughtfully.

A fortnight went by. Crow's Mountain had become the scene of sharp but
stealthy activity. Anderson went about the streets of Tinkletown as if
in a daze. Acting upon the stern, almost offensive, advice of his new
partners, he did not go near the "Mountain" after the first couple of
days. They made it very plain to him that _everything_ depended on his
shrewdness in staying away from the "Mountain" altogether.

The Tinkletown _Banner_, in reporting the vast transaction, incorporated
an interview with Mr. G. W. Bacon, who announced that the syndicate he
represented had in mind a project to erect a huge summer hotel on top of
the "most beautiful mountain east of the Rockies," in the event that
satisfactory terms could be arranged with Mr. Crow. As a matter of fact,
explained Mr. Bacon, he had been instructed to make certain preliminary
investigations in regard to construction, and so forth--such as
ascertaining how far down they would have to go to bed-rock, and all
that sort of thing.

Practically all of the syndicate's preparatory work on Crow's Mountain
was done under cover of night. Motor-trucks that were said to have been
driven all the way from Pittsburgh--on account of the dreadful
congestion on the railroads--delivered machinery, tools, drills, rods,
bolts, rivets and thin jangling strips of structural steel.

Marshal Crow, assuming an importance he did not feel, strutted about
Tinkletown.

* * * * *

His abstraction had a good deal to do with the accident to old Mrs.
Twiggers. He was dreamily cogitating at the time she was run down by
Schultz's butcher-wagon, and as the catastrophe took place almost under
his nose, more than one citizen called him