"An unprejudiced outsideh might say that the 'horrid men with their guns' were on top of that embankment, my deah--ten to ouh one," he remarked.

"But I should think we might win in some other way," Virginia persisted undauntedly.

Mr. Darrah pushed his plate aside and cleared his throat.

"For business reasons which you--ah--wouldn't undehstand, we can't let the Utah finish this railroad of theirs into Carbonate this winteh."

"So much I have inferred. But Mr. Winton seems to be very determined."

"Mmph! I wish Mr. Callowell had favehed us with some one else--any one else. That young fellow is a bawn fighteh, my deah."

Virginia had a bright idea, and she advanced it without examining too closely into its ethical part.

"Mr. Winton is working for wages, isn't he?" she asked.

"Of cou'se; big money, at that. His sawt come high."

"Well, why can't you hire him away from the other people? Mr.

Callowell might not be so fortunate next time."

The Rajah sat back in his chair and regarded her thoughtfully.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing my deah--nothing at all. I was just wondering how a woman's--ah--sense of propo'tion was put togetheh. But your plan has merit. Do I understand that you will faveh me with your help?"

"Why, ye-es, certainly, if I can," she a.s.sented, not without dubiety.

"That is, I'll be nice to Mr. Winton."

"That is precisely what I mean, my deah. We'll begin by having him heah to dinneh this evening, him and the otheh young man--what's his name?--Adams."

And the upshot of the matter was a dainty note which found its way by the hands of the private-car porter to Winton, laboring manfully at his task of repairing the landslide damages.

"Mr. Somerville Darrah's compliments to Mr. John Winton and Mr. Morton P. Adams, and he will be pleased if they will dine with the party in the car Rosemary at seven o'clock.

"Informal.

"Wednesday, December the Ninth."

VIII. THE GREEKS BRINGING GIFTS

Adams said "By Jove!" in his most cynical drawl when Winton gave him the dinner-bidding to read: then he laughed.

Winton recovered the dainty note, folding it carefully and putting it in his pocket. The handwriting was the same as that of the telegram abstracted from Operator Carter's sending-book.

"I don't see anything to laugh at," he objected.

"No? First the Rajah sends the sheriff's posse packing without striking a blow, and now he invites us to dinner."

"You make me exceedingly tired at odd moments, Morty. Why can't you give Mr. Darrah the credit of being what he really is at bottom--a right-hearted Virginia gentleman of the old school?"

"You don't mean that you are going to accept!" said Adams, aghast.

"Certainly; and so are you."

There was no more to be said, and Adams held his peace while Winton scribbled a line of acceptance on a leaf of his note-book and sent it across to the Rosemary by the hand of the water-boy.

Their reception at the steps of the Rosemary was a generous proof of the aptness of that aphorism which sums up the status _post bellum_ in the terse phrase, "After war, peace." Mr. Darrah met them; was evidently waiting for them.

"Come in, gentlemen; come in and be at home,"--this with a hand for each. "Virginia allowed you wouldn't faveh us, but I a.s.sured her she didn't rightly know men of the world: told her that a picayune business affair in which we are all acting as corporation proxies needn't spell out anything like a blood feud between gentlemen."

For another man the informal table gathering might have been easily prohibitive of confidences _a deux_, even with a Virginia Carteret to help, but Winton was far above the trammelings of time and place. He had eyes and ears only for the sweet-faced, low-voiced young woman beside him, and some of his replies to the others were irrelevant enough to send a smile around the board.

"How very absent-minded Mr. Winton seems to be this evening!" murmured Bessie from her niche between Adams and the Reverend Billy at the farther end of the table. "He isn't quite at his best, is he, Mr.

Adams?"

"No, indeed," said Adams, matching her undertone, "very far from it.

He has been a bit off all day: touch of mountain fever, I'm afraid."

"But he doesn't look at all ill," objected Miss Bessie. "I should say he is a perfect picture of rude health."

The coffee was served, and Mrs. Carteret was rising. Whereupon Miss Virginia handed her cup to Adams, and so had him for her companion in the tete-a-tete chair, leaving Winton to shift for himself.

The shifting process carried him over to the Rajah and the Reverend Billy, to a small table in a corner of the compartment, and the enjoyment of a mild cigar.

Later, when Calvert had been eliminated by Miss Bessie, Winton looked to see the true inwardness of the dinner-bidding made manifest by his host.

But Mr. Darrah chatted on, affably noncommittal, and after a time Winton began to upbraid himself for suspecting the ulterior motive.

And when he finally rose to excuse himself on a letter-writing plea, his leave-taking was that of the genial host reluctant to part company with his guest.

"I've enjoyed your conve'sation, seh; enjoyed it right much. May I hope you will faveh us often while we are neighbors?"

Winton rose, made the proper acknowledgments, and would have crossed the compartment to make his adieus to Mrs. Carteret. But at that moment Virginia came between.

"You are not going yet, are you, Mr. Winton? Don't hurry. If you are dying to smoke a pipe, as Mr. Adams says you are, we can go out on the platform. It isn't too cold, is it?"

"It is clear and frosty, a beautiful night," he hastened to say. "May I help you with your coat?"

So presently Winton had his heart's desire, which was to be alone with Virginia.

She nerved herself for the plunge,--her uncle's plunge.

"Your part in the building of this other railroad is purely a business affair, is it not?"