first expenses and outfit, and so you can easily get away to-morrow
night. That will bring you out to Cheyenne in time to meet Ferris,
and then get your instructions. He is coming on to look at the annual
accounts and give Mr. Worthington's views as to your successor."

Wade pushed over a telegraph blank. "Just write out your telegram,
and I will send it on at once. You will accept, of course."

Randall Clayton had schooled himself since Jack Witherspoon's
departure in every defensive measure against the secret plotters.
And so his voice was suave and measured as he simply said, "I think,
Mr. Wade, that I shall have to regretfully decline this promotion.
I am perfectly well satisfied as I am. I know nothing of the details
of our great Western business. I have forgotten the frontier now."

The lines in Wade's face hardened. "Is that your only reason? You
will soon pick up the technique!"

Clayton stood the fire of the vulpine gray eyes without a quiver.
Jack Witherspoon's warning injunctions returned to his mind. "Look
out, my boy, that they don't get you sidetracked in some lonely
place. They would kill you like a rat if our design to uncover
the past was ever discovered."

Clayton but too well knew how easily a man could be lost forever out
in the Black Hills, or along the lonely Platte. "It is their grand
final move before bringing out Ferris as the new-made capitalist.
My life would not be worth a pin-head. And Witherspoon would be
far away out of reach. Irma lost to me forever!"