"Gloria's doings," he chuckled. "Sent ahead from San Francisco with
explicit commands. I guess I'd wear a monkey-jacket if she said so,
Mark." But none the less his eyes, as they appraised the rough garb of
his guest, were envious. "I can breathe better, just the same, in boots
like yours," he concluded. He stretched his long arms high above his
head. "I wish I could get out into the woods for a spell with you,
Mark."

And he did not know, did not in the least suspect, that he was failing
the minutest iota in his loyalty to Gloria and her mother. He was
thinking only of their guests, whom he could not quite consider his own.

"The very thing," said King eagerly. "That's just what I want."

But Gaynor shook his head and his thin, aristocratic face was briefly
overcast, and for an instant shadows crept into his eyes.

"No can do, Mark," he said quietly. "Not this time. I've got both hands
full and then some."

King leaned forward in his chair, his hand gripping Gaynor's knee.

"Ben, it's there. I've always known it, always been willing to bet my
last dollar. Now I'd gamble my life on it."

Gaynor's mouth tightened and his eyes flashed.

"Between you and me, Mark," he said in a voice which dropped
confidentially, "I'd like mighty well to have my share right now. I've
gone in pretty deep here of late, a little over my head, it begins to