By Jove, how interesting!"

All titled people are fascinated at once with logs, and
Mr. Boulder knew it--at least subconsciously.

"Yes, logs," he would continue, still in deep sorrow;
"just the plain cedar, not squared, you know, the old
original timber; I had them cut right out of the forest."

By this time the visitor's excitement was obvious. "And
is there game there?" he would ask.

"We have the timber-wolf," said Mr. Boulder, his voice
half choking at the sadness of the thing, "and of course
the jack wolf and the lynx."

"And are they ferocious?"

"Oh, extremely so--quite uncontrollable."

On which the titled visitor was all excitement to start
for Wisconsin at once, even before Mr. Boulder's invitation
was put in words.

And when he returned a week later, all tanned and wearing
bush-whackers' boots, and covered with wolf bites, his
whole available fortune was so completely invested in
Mr. Boulder's securities that you couldn't have shaken
twenty-five cents out of him upside down.