Mr. Ford's scepticism was at last staggered. Any practical joke or
foolish complicity between the agent of the bank and a man like
Uncle Ben was out of the question, and if the story were his own sole
invention, he would have scarcely dared to risk so accessible and
uncompromising a denial as the agent had it in his power to give.

He held out his hand to Uncle Ben. "Let me congratulate you," he said
heartily, "and forgive me if your story really sounded so wonderful I
couldn't quite grasp it. Now let me ask you something more. Have you had
any reason for keeping this a secret, other than your fear of confessing
that you violated a few bigoted and idiotic mining rules--which, after
all, are binding only upon sentiment--and which your success has proved
to be utterly impractical?"

"There WAS another reason, Mr. Ford," said Uncle Ben, wiping away an
embarrassed smile with the back of his hand, "that is, to be square with
you, WHY I thought of consultin' you. I didn't keer to have McKinstry,
and"--he added hurriedly, "in course Harrison, too, know that I bought
up the title to thur boundary."

"I understand," nodded the master. "I shouldn't think you would."

"Why shouldn't ye?" asked Uncle Ben quickly.

"Well--I don't suppose you care to quarrel with two passionate men."

Uncle Ben's face changed. Presently, however, with his hand to his face,
he managed to manipulate another smile, only it appeared for the purpose
of being as awkwardly wiped away.