Gordon laughed.

"Don't worry that way. We're going to give him the time of his life."

Then he glanced swiftly about him, and noted the emptiness of the depot. "I guess Peter's keeping the folks busy. He's a bright feller.

I surely guess he's working overtime. Now you get things fixed right, Hazel. The train's coming along."

The girl nodded.

"You can trust me."

"Right." Gordon sighed. "I'll make tracks then. But I'll be around handy to see you don't make a mistake."

He left the depot and disappeared. Hazel stood studying the picture in her hand, and alternating her attention with the incoming train. She was in a happy mood. The excitement of her share in Gordon's plot was thrilling through her veins, and the thought that she was going to meet his father, the great multi-millionaire, left her almost beside herself with delighted interest.

She wondered how much she would find him like Gordon. No, she thought softly, he could never be really like Gordon. That was impossible. A multi-millionaire could never have his son's frank enthusiasm for life in all its turns and twistings of moral impulse. Gordon faced life with a defiant "don't care." That glorious spirit of youth and moral health. His father, for all his physical resemblance, would be a hard, stern, keen-eyed man, with all experience behind him. Then she remembered Gordon's injunctions.

"Be just yourself," he had said. Then he had added, with a laugh, "If you do that you'll have the dear old boy at your feet long before the day's had time to get cool."

It was rather nice Gordon talking that way, and the smile which accompanied her recollection was frankly delighted. Anyway she would soon know all about it, for the train was already rumbling its way in.

James Carbhoy had done all that had been required of him by his agent's message. He had not welcomed the abandonment of his private car in favor of the ordinary parlor car and sleeper. Then, too, the purchase of a ticket for his journey had seemed strange. But somehow, after the first break from his usual method of travel, he had found enjoyment in the situation. His fellow passengers, with whom he had got into conversation on the journey, had passed many pleasant hours, and it became quite absorbing to look on at the affairs of the world through eyes that, for the time being, were no longer those of one of the country's multi-millionaires.

However, the journey was a long one, and he was pleased enough when he reached his destination all unheralded and unrecognized. It amused him to find how many travelers in the country knew nothing about James Carbhoy and his vast financial exploits.

As the train slowed down he gathered up his simple belongings, which consisted of a crocodile leather suitcase, a stout valise of the same material; and a light dust coat, which he slung over his arm. Armed with these, he fell in with the queue making its way towards the exit of the car. He frankly and simply enjoyed the situation. He told himself he was merely one of the rest of the get-rich-quick brigade who were flocking to the Eldorado at Snake's Fall.

He was the last to alight, and he scanned the depot platform for the familiar figure of his confidential agent. As he did so the locomotive bell began to toll out its announcement of progress. The train slowly slid out of the station behind him.

David Slosson was nowhere to be seen, and he had just made up his mind to search out a hotel for himself when he became aware of the tailored figure of a young girl standing before him, and of the pleasant tones of her voice addressing him.

"Your agent, David Slosson, Mr. Carbhoy, has been detained out beyond the coalfields on your most urgent business," she said. "So I was sent in with the rig to drive you out to your quarters."

The millionaire was startled. Then, as his steady eyes searched the delightful face smiling up at him, his start proved a pleasant one.

There was something so very charming in the girl's tone and manner.

Then her extremely pretty eyes, and--Gordon's father mechanically bared his head, and Hazel could have laughed with joy as she beheld this strong, handsome edition of the Gordon she knew.

"Well, come, that was thoughtful of Slosson," he said kindly. "He certainly has shown remarkable judgment in substituting your company for his own. My dear young lady, Slosson as a man of affairs is possible, but as a companion on a journey, however short--well, I---- And you are really going to drive me to my hotel. That's surely kind of you."

Hazel flushed. She felt the meanest thing in the world under the great man's kindly regard. However, she reminded herself of the great and ultimate object of the part she was playing and steeled her heart.

"The team's right here, sir." She felt justified in adding the "sir."

She felt that she must risk nothing in her manner. "I'll just take your baggage along."

She was about to relieve the millionaire of his grips, but he drew back.

"Say, I just couldn't dream of it. You carry my grips? No, no, go right ahead, and I'll bring them along."

In a perfect maze of excitement and confusion the girl hastily crossed over to her team. Somehow she could no longer face the man's steady eyes without betraying herself like some weak, silly schoolgirl. This was Gordon's father, she kept telling herself, and--and she was there to cheat him. It--it just seemed dreadful.

However, no time was wasted. She sprang into the driving-seat of the democrat spring rig, and took up the reins. The millionaire deposited his grips in the body of the vehicle, and himself mounted to the seat beside her. In a moment the wagon was on the move.

As they moved away, out of the corners of her eyes Hazel saw the grinning face of Gordon peering out at them from the window of Steve Mason's telegraph office, smiling approval and encouragement.

Curiously enough, the sight made her feel almost angry.

They moved down Main Street at a rattling pace, and, in a few moments, turned off it into one of those streets which only the erection of dwelling-houses marked. There were no made roads of any sort. Just beaten, heavy, sandy tracks on the virgin ground.

Hazel remained silent for some time. She was almost afraid to speak.

Yet she wanted to. She wanted to talk to Gordon's father. She wanted to tell him of the mean trick she was playing upon him, for, under the influence of his steady eyes and the knowledge that he was Gordon's father, a great surge of shame was stirring in her heart which made her hate herself.

For some time the man gazed about him interestedly. Then, as they lost themselves among the wooden frame dwelling-houses, he breathed a deep sigh of content and drew out one of those extravagant cigars which Gordon had not tasted for so many weeks.

"Say, will smoke worry you any, young lady?" he inquired kindly.

Hazel was thankful for the opportunity of a cordial reply.

"Why, no," she cried. Then on the impulse she went on, "I just love the smell of smoke where men are." She laughed merrily. "I guess men without smoke makes you feel they're sick in body or conscience."

Gordon's father laughed in his quiet fashion as he lit his cigar.

"That way I guess folks of the Anti-Tobacco League need to start right in and build hospitals for themselves."

The girl nodded.

"Anti-Tobacco?" she said. "Why, 'anti' anything wholesomely human must be a terrible sick crowd. I'd hate to trust them with my pocket-book, and, goodness knows, there's only about ten cents in it. Even that would be a temptation to such folks."

Again came the millionaire's quiet laugh.

"That's the result of the healthy life you folks live right out here in the open sunshine," he said, noting the pretty tanning of the girl's face. "I don't guess it's any real sign of health, mentally or physically, when folks have to start 'anti' societies, eh?"

"No, sir," replied the girl. "Did you ever know anybody that was really healthy who started in to worry how they were living? It's just what I used to notice way back at college in Boston. The girls that came from cities were just full of cranks and notions. This wasn't right for them to eat, that wasn't right for them to do. And it seemed to me all their folks belonged to some 'anti' society of some sort. If the 'anti' wasn't for themselves it was for some other folks who weren't worried with the things they did or the way they lived. It just seems to me cities are full of cranks who can run everything for other folks and need other folks to run everything for them. It's just a sort of human drug store in which every med'cine has to be able to cure the effects of some other. Out here it's different. We got green grass and sunshine, the same as God started us with, and so we haven't got any use for the 'anti' folks."

"No." James Carbhoy had forgotten the journey and its object. He was only aware of this fresh, bright young creature beside him. He stirred in his seat and glanced about him from a sheer sense of a new interest, and in looking about he became aware of a horseman riding on the same trail some distance behind them.

"You said Boston just now," he said curiously. "You were educated in Boston?"

Hazel nodded.

"Yes, my poppa sent me to Boston. He just didn't reckon anything but Boston was good enough. But I was glad to be back here again."

The millionaire would have liked to question her more closely as to how she came to be driving a team at Slosson's command. He had no great regard for his agent outside of business, But somehow he felt it would be an impertinence, and so refrained. Instead, he changed the subject.

"How far out are the coalfields?" he inquired.

"About five miles." The memory of her purpose swept over the girl again, and her reply came shortly, and she glanced back quickly over her shoulder.

As she did so she became sickeningly aware that two horsemen were on the trail some distance behind them. How she wished she had never undertaken this work!

"I suppose there's quite a town there now?" was the millionaire's next inquiry.