"Well, what of it? I'd a heap rather pin my faith to the writin' in the letter than to what's on the photograft."
Clancy saw that argument was useless. Hill was completely carried away with the letter, for it steered him along the line of least resistance right into the haven of his happiest desires. He believed in that letter because he wanted to believe in it, and for no other earthly reason.
"Then," said the motor wizard quietly, "you think you'll go to San Diego and not to Catalina Island?"
"What's the use o' wastin' time on Catalina when that letter tells us right where to go?" demanded Hill. "You're goin' with me, ain't you?"
"Not if you're going right away, Hiram. I just reached Los Angeles after a long ride from Phoenix, and I'm not going to hit the iron trail again before I have a chance to get the cinders out of my eyes and the dust off my face. If you're going to San Diego this afternoon, or to-night, you'll go alone."
"You don't take any stock in this letter at all, huh?"
"No."
"Who do you think wrote it if it wasn't my lost dad?"
"I don't know who wrote it,"
"Well," grumbled Hiram, "I won't start for San Diego afore to-morrow. I want you to be along, and I'm waitin' over so'st to have you. S'pose we go and eat? Registered yet?"