Bill Evans, almost bursting with importance, undid the binding wire that fastened the door of the tonneau and the Secretary arose.
"If you had telegraphed me, Mr. Secretary," Jim began with a reproachful glance at Uncle Denny.
"On me soul, Jimmy," said Uncle Denny, "I didn't know. I went over with Bill to meet someone else and——"
The Secretary laughed as he followed Jim. As Jim held open the door he said: "I didn't want to wire you, Mr. Manning. I wanted to find you on the ground, steeped in your iniquities. You have nice quarters," he added, sitting down comfortably before the grate fire. Then his eye fell on the cigar box full of money. "Ah, is that a part of the loot I hear you've been getting?"
Jim looked at the Secretary uncertainly. He was a large man with the keen blue eyes and the firm mouth in a smooth-shaven face that Jim remembered was like a fine set mask. Jim got nothing from staring into his distinguished guest's quiet eyes.
"This is a gift from the workmen on the dam," said Jim. "I am to buy something to remember them by. There are about two hundred dollars there, they tell me."
The Secretary nodded. "I am glad to hear that the men like you, Mr. Manning. What have you—Come in, madam!" The Secretary nodded to Mrs. Flynn, who had paused in the door with a tray load of dishes. She paused and looked uncertainly at Jim.
"Supper for four tonight, Mrs. Flynn," said Jim. "We have the Secretary of the Interior with us."
"My heavens!" gasped Mrs. Flynn. "God knows I never meant to intrude."
The Secretary laughed so richly and so heartily that all but Mrs. Flynn joined him. She gave the group of men a look of utter scorn, and said: