And so it came to pass that an ugly-faced individual named Gibbons came to the conclusion that he was irresistible to the fair sex, or at least to one representative member of it named Tavia Travers.
He was bewildered and fascinated, albeit still faintly suspicious. But his vanity was touched, and that is fatal to a man—especially to a man of the Gibbons stamp. Before they arrived at Dugonne the next day he was completely enslaved and suspicion had been almost completely lulled to rest.
As Tavia herself later confided to Dorothy, she had seldom, if ever, worked so hard in her life, for Gibbons was not the type of man a girl naturally takes to, especially a girl of discrimination like Tavia.
“Now, your part was the easy one,” she added, at which Dorothy looked at her pityingly.
“If you think so, you should have tried it!” was all she said. However, the fact remains that, in spite of all their efforts, the girls found out very little concerning the plot involving Garry at which in the hotel dining room these men had hinted.
Dorothy, though spending many hours in the society of Stanley Blake, never dared to lead directly up to the subject and the man avoided all reference to his present business in Desert City with a skill that was baffling.
Only once under the stimulus of a good meal and Dorothy’s smiles did he become talkative.
“There are some young fellows out here in the West who expect to make a fortune when they really haven’t got the least idea how to go about it,” he began, and paused, looking over at Dorothy.
The girl said nothing, but evidently he found her silence encouraging for his mood became more expansive as he warmed up to his discourse.
“They expect to strike gold the first thing, or raise a spanking crop of wheat without having, you might say, a bit of experience. Serves their conceit right when some of them get left.”