st. "I'm not telling
everything I know. If I did, by grab, there'd be a string of men from
here to the Tecolote Hills."

"Yes--coming back!" jeered the provocative L. W.; but Rimrock only
smiled again and gazed away through a thin veil of smoke.

"You just keep your shirt on, Mr. Know-it-all Lockhart, and remember
that large bodies move slowly. You'll wake up some morning and read
the answer written in letters ten feet high."

"Yes--For Rent!" grunted L. W., and shutting down on his cigar, he
stumped off up the street; but Old Hassayamp Hicks nodded and winked at
Rimrock, though at that he was no wiser than L. W.

Rimrock kept his own counsel, sitting soberly by himself and mulling
over what was on his mind; and at last he went to see Mary Fortune. It
was of her he had been thinking, though in no sentimental way, during
the long hours that he sat alone. Who was this woman, he asked
himself, and what did she want with that stock? And should he give it
to her? That was the one big question and it took him two weeks to
decide.

He came into her office while she was running her typewriter and nodded
briefly as he glanced out the rear door; then without any preliminaries
he drew out an engraved certificate and laid it down on her desk.

"There's your stock," he said. "I've just endorsed it over to you.
And now you can give me back that paper."

He did not sit down, did not even take off his hat; and he studiously
avoided her eyes.

"Oh, thank you," she replied, glancing hurriedly at the certificate,
"won't you sit down while I write out a receipt?"

She picked up the paper, a beautiful piece of engraving, and looked it
over carefully.

"Oh, _two_ thousand shares?" she murmured questioningly. "Yes, I see;
there are two hundred thousand in all. 'Par value, one hundred
dollars.' I suppose that's just nominal. How much are they really
worth?"

"A hundred dollars a share," he answered grimly and as she cried out he
picked up a pen and fumbled idly with its point.

"Oh, surely they aren't worth so much as that?" she exclaimed, but he
continued his attentions to the pen.

"No?" he enquired and then he waited with an almost bovine calm.

"Why, no," she ran on, "why, I'd----"

"You'd what?" he asked, but the trap he had set had been sprung without
catching its prey.

"Why, it seems so much," she evaded rather lamely.

"Oh, I thought you were going to say you'd like to sell."

"No, I wouldn't sell,"