oofs of
the fact that any farm-hand was wise to take such a stand against the
labor organization. Leaving the fellow gaping and staring after him,
Kurt crossed the street to enter another hotel. It was more pretentious
than the first, with a large, well lighted office. There were loungers
at the tables. Kurt walked to the desk. A man leaned upon his elbows. He
asked Kurt if he wanted a room. This man, evidently the proprietor, was
a German, though he spoke English.

"I'm not sure," replied Kurt. "Will you let me look at the register?"

The man shoved the book around. Kurt did not find the name he sought.

"My father, Chris Dorn, is in town. Can you tell me where I'll find
him?"

"So you're young Dorn," replied the other, with instant change to
friendliness. "I've heard of you. Yes, the old man is here. He made a
big wheat deal to-day. He's eating his supper."

Kurt stepped to the door indicated, and, looking into the dining-room,
he at once espied his father's huge head with its shock of gray hair. He
appeared to be in earnest colloquy with a man whose bulk matched his
own. Kurt hesitated, and finally went back to the desk.

"Who's the big man with my father?" he asked.

"He is a big man, both ways. Don't you know him?" rejoined the
proprietor, in a lower voice.

"I'm not sure," answered Kurt. The lowered tone had a significance that
decided Kurt to admit nothing.

"That's Neuman from Ruxton, one of the biggest wheat men in Washington."

Kurt repressed a whistle of surprise. Neuman was Anderson's only rival
in the great, fertile valley. What were Neuman and Chris Dorn doing with
their heads together?

"I thought he was Neuman," replied Kurt, feeling his way. "Is he in on
the big deal with father?"

"Which one?" queried the proprietor, with shrewd eyes, taking Kurt's
measure. "You're in on both, of course."

"Sure. I mean the wheat sale, not the I.W.W. deal," replied Kurt. He
hazarded a guess with that mention of the I.W.W. No sooner had the words
passed his lips than he divined he was on the track of sinister events.

"Your father sold out to that Spokane miller. No, Neuman is not in on
that."

"I was surprised to hear father had sold the wheat. Was it speculation
or guarantee?"

"Old Chris guaranteed sixty bushels. There were friends of his here who
advised against it. Did you have rain over there?"

"Fine. The wheat will go over sixty bushels. I'm sorry I couldn't get
here sooner."

"When it ra