"Remember there are ladies present," urged Polly.

"I won't hurt Paul," promised Johnny, responding to her smile with a suddenly relieved grin, and, taking Gresham daintily by the coat sleeve with his thumb and forefinger, he led the unresisting cousin of Lord Yawpingham to the front door. Polly opened it for him, and, grabbing Gresham's silk hat, put it hastily askew and hindside before upon his bewildered head.

Johnny did not strike him or shove him, but the graceful and self-possessed Gresham, attempting desperately to recover those qualities and to leave with dignity, stumbled over the door-mat and scrambled wildly down the stone steps, struggling to retain his balance.

Colonel Bouncer, just starting up the steps with Loring, Sammy Chirp, Winnie, Val Russel and Mrs. Follison, hastily and automatically gave him a helping shove on the shoulder which sent him sprawling to the walk, where he completed his interesting exhibition by turning a back somersault.

"Glimmering gosh, Colonel!" protested Val, as he hurried to pick up Gresham, laughing, however, as did the others, on account of the neighbors. "Why did you do that?"

"I thought Johnny Gamble pushed him," humbly apologized the colonel.

Bruce Townley and the Courtney girls arrived, and in the gay scramble for wraps Johnny had a moment with Constance.

"Well, I lose," he said regretfully. "There isn't much chance to make that million between now and four o'clock to-morrow afternoon."

"What's the difference?" inquired Constance, smiling contentedly into his eyes.

Only the presence of so many people prevented her fichu from being mussed.

"There's a lot of difference," he a.s.serted with a suddenly renewed impulse, the world being greatly changed since she had refused Gresham.

"I set out to get it, and I won't give it up until four o'clock to-morrow afternoon."

"If you want it so very badly I hope that you get it then," she gently a.s.sured him.

Her shoulder happened to touch his arm and he pressed against it as hard as he could. She resisted him.

"Ready, Constance?" called Polly.

"In just a minute," Johnny took it on himself to reply. "How does the score board look by this time?"

Constance hesitated, then she blushed and drew from a drawer of the library table the score board. The neatly ruled pasteboard had been roughly torn into seven pieces--but it had been carefully pasted together again!

CHAPTER XXIII

IN WHICH THE BRIGHT EYES OF CONSTANCE "RAIN INFLUENCE"

There being no cozy corners aboard Mr. Courtney's snow-white Albatross in which a couple with many important things to say could be free from prying observation, Johnny and Constance behaved like normal human beings who were profoundly happy. They mingled with the gaiety all the way out through the harbor to the open sea, and then they drifted unconsciously farther and farther to the edge of the hilarity, until they found themselves sitting in the very prow of the foredeck with Mr.

Courtney and his friend from the West. If they could not exchange important confidences they could at least sit very quietly, touching elbows.

Mr. Courtney's friend from the West was a strong old man with keen blue eyes, who sat all through the afternoon in the same place, talking in low tones with Courtney on such dry and interminable subjects as railroads, mines, freight rates, stocks, bonds and board meetings.

Constance wondered how an otherwise nice old man could reach that age without having acc.u.mulated any lighter and more comprehensible objects of interest, and she really doubted the possibility of any man's understanding all the dry-as-dust business statistics with which he was so handy. Suddenly, however, Johnny Gamble awoke from his blissful lethargy and bent eagerly forward.

"Beg pardon, Mr. Boise," he interjected into the peaceful conversational flow of the older men. "Did I understand you to say that the S. W. & P. had secured a controlling interest in the B. F. & N. W.?"

Constance looked at Johnny in dismay. If he, too, intended to talk in nothing but the oral sign language, she had a wild idea of joining the frivolous crowd on the afterdeck, where at least there was laughter.

Mr. Boise looked at Johnny from under s.h.a.ggy eyebrows.

"It's not generally known," he stated, struggling between a desire to be pleasant to a fellow guest and a regret that he had fancied Johnny absorbed too much in Constance to be interested in sotto voce affairs.

"That's what that territory needs," Johnny briskly commented. "As long as the S. W. & P. and the B. F. & N. W. were sc.r.a.pping, the Sancho Hills Basin had as good service with burros."

Both Boise and Courtney laughed.

"Be careful, Johnny," warned Courtney. "Mr. Boise is president of the S. W. & P., and is now also virtually president of the B. F. & N. W."

Constance sighed, but stuck gamely to her post. After all Johnny was having a good time, and he actually seemed to understand what they were talking about. There was no question that Johnny was a smart man!

"I'm glad he is president of both," said Johnny, "for with consolidation things will start humming out there."

"Thank you," laughed Boise, no longer regarding Johnny as an impertinent interloper. "That's what we hope to do."

"The first thing you'll start will be a cut right across the Sancho Hills Basin, which will shorten your haul to Puget Sound by five hundred miles and open up a lot of rich new land."

Boise studied him with contracted brows.

"That's a good guess," he admitted. "You seem to know a lot about that country."

"I own some land out there," grinned Johnny. "Your best route will be from Marble Bluffs to Sage City, and from there straight across to Salt Pool, then up along the Buffalo Canon to Silver Ledge and on to the main line."

"That's one of the three routes I've been worrying over," agreed Boise, admiring Johnny's frankness. "I promised to wire my chief engineer to-morrow which one to put through."

Constance noticed a slight squaring of Johnny's lower lip, and she felt leaping within her a sudden intense interest in S. W. & P. and B. F. & N. W.

"What are the others?" asked Johnny.

Mr. Boise promptly drew a canvas-backed map from his pocket. Mr.

Courtney reached for a folding deck chair. Constance helped Mr. Boise spread out the map. Johnny weighted down the corners with a cigar-case, a watch, a pocket-knife and a silver dollar.

"The favorite route at present," pointed out Boise, "is from Marble Bluffs round by Lariat Center, across to Buffalo Canyon and up to Silver Ledge. The other one is right through Eagle Pa.s.s."

"That one won't do at all," declared Johnny earnestly.

"It's the shortest," insisted Boise.

"You'd have to tunnel through solid granite," objected Johnny, "and the only traffic you would pick up would be from two or three dead mining towns. In the Sage City and Salt Pool route you would open up a big, rich, farming territory."

"That route is the one I have practically discarded," said Boise.

"Right through here," and he put a broad forefinger on the map, "is a large stretch of worthless arid land."

"Yes, I know," admitted Johnny, hitching closer, "but right here"--and he pointed to another place--"is Blue Lake, and with very simple engineering work, which has been begun, it could be brought down to turn that whole district into land rich enough to load your cars with wheat, corn and cattle. Just now that water wastes itself through Buffalo Canyon and doesn't do a pound of work until it hits the big river."

Mr. Boise studied the map reflectively. Mr. Courtney studied it interestedly. Johnny studied it eagerly. Constance, with her hands folded in her lap, looked on with puzzled wonder.