"Busy, but not too busy to meet old friends. Let me see. I haven't
seen you since you were ten years old, have I?"

"I was about twelve. It was when my father moved to Wyoming."

"Well, I'm glad to see you. Where you staying? Eat lunch with me
to-morrow, can't you? I'll try to get Jack too."

"Suits me fine," agreed Kirby.

"Anything I can do for you in the meantime?"

"Yes. I want to see Uncle James."

There was a film of wariness in the eyes of the oil broker as he looked
at the straight, clean-built young cattleman. He knew that the strong
face, brown as Wyoming, expressed a pungent personality back of which
was dynamic force. What did Lane want with his uncle? They had
quarreled. His cousin knew that. Did young Lane expect him to back
his side of the quarrel? Or did he want to win back favor with James
Cunningham, Senior, millionaire?

Kirby smiled. He guessed what the other was thinking. "I don't want
to interfere in your friendship with him. All I need is his address
and a little information. I've come to have another row with him, I
reckon."

The interest in Cunningham's eyes quickened. He laughed. "Aren't you
in bad enough already with Uncle? Why another quarrel?"