story; of his vigil with
Allan, of the loss of the money, of the capture of Travers, and
finally of the arrival of the policeman on the scene.

"Didn't it seem to you a foolish thing to go into the hills with all
that money to meet a man you had never seen, and buy a property you
had never examined?" asked the coroner.

"It wasn't foolishness; it was stark, raving madness, as I see it
now," Harris admitted. "But I didn't see it that way then. It looked
like a lot of easy money. I didn't care what the coal mine was
like--I didn't care whether there was a coal mine at all or not, so
long as we made our turn-over to the New York people."

"But did it not occur to you that the whole thing--coal mine and mine
owner and New Yorkers and all--was simply a scheme hatched up to
induce you away into the fastnesses of the foothills with a lot of
money in your possession?"

A half-bewildered look came over Harris, as of a man gripped by a new
and paralyzing thought. But he shook his head. "No, it couldn't have
been that," he said. "You see, Riles was an old neighbour of mine,
and Mr. Gardiner, too, I knew for a good many years. It wasn't like
as if I had been dealing with strangers."

"We will go deeper into that matter after a little," said the
coroner. "It's very fortunate Mr. Gardiner is here to add what light
he can to the mystery. We will now adjourn to the room where the
younger Mr. Harris lies and hear his evidence. It would be unwise to
move him for some days yet."

They found Allan partly propped up in the white bed. His face was
pale, and his hands were astonishingly thin and white, but his mind
was clear, and he could talk without difficulty. He covered much the
same ground as his father had done, up to the point where the elder
Harris had fallen asleep in the old building.

"I can't tell you how it happened, Doctor," he said, turning his
eyes, larger now in his pale face, upon the coroner, "but I think I
got very homesick--I guess I was pretty tired, too--and I began
thinking of things that had happened long ago, back when I was a
little child, in a little sod shanty that the old shack in the valley
some way seemed to bring to mind. And then I guess I fell asleep,
too, but suddenly I sat up in a great fright. I'm not a coward," he
said, with a faint smile. "When I'm feeling myself it takes more than
a notion or a dark night to send the creeps up the back of my neck.
But I own I sat up there so frightened my tee