"Why, every young man is looking for an opportunity to make money."
"Sure thing. Wait a moment. I want you to meet a friend of mine. He's stopping right here in this hotel. He's one of the main guys in our big game."
"But you haven't told me what the game is."
Cavendale tapped his lips with one finger.
"Discreetness," he grinned. "It's all on the level, but it doesn't do to talk too much to outsiders. If my friend likes you, he may unfold some of it to you. Oh, it's great! I expect to pull out forty or fifty thousand as my share in a year. If you're taken in, you'll do as well."
"That sounds too good to be true," said Dade, with an incredulous smile.
"You wait," nodded Cavendale. "I want to step to the telephone. Be back in a minute. Don't stir. I'll have Mr. Hagan—er—Mr. Harrigan right down."
Cavendale hurried from the barroom.
"What did he say?" thought Morgan, who wondered over the manner in which Cavendale had faltered over the name of the man he was going to call. "He said Hagan, and then he changed it to Harrigan. Hagan, Hagan—why, that's the name of the Irishman Merry told me about! That is the name of one of Frank's enemies! Can it be Hagan is here? Why not? The other man who calls himself Lazaro, is here—or was at the falls to-day. I scent something! Oh, if Merriwell were here! If I could get word to him!"
At this moment something happened that filled Dade with unspeakable satisfaction.