“Gail Holden!” Roderick repeated the name out loud, as he started erect in his seat. He knew who the father was now—the daughter was no other than the mysterious rider of the range.
Whitley’s face wore a quizzical look.
“Hello! you know her then, old chap?”
“I never met her—at least I have never been introduced to her.”
“That’s good hearing. Then we’ll start level tonight. Of course I’ll cut you out in the long run if she proves to be just my style.”
“Go ahead,” smiled Roderick. He had already recovered his self-possession. “But you haven’t informed me yet how you come to know Ben Bragdon, our cleverest young lawyer here, I’ve been told, and likely enough to get the Republican nomination for state senator.”
“Oh, simple enough. I’ve come up to investigate one technical point in regard to those smelter bonds. Well, Ben Bragdon, your political big gun, happens to be your uncle’s legal adviser in Wyoming.”
“Which reminds me,” interposed Roderick earnestly, “that you are not to give away my whereabout, Whitley—just yet.”
“A bit rough on the old uncle not to tell him where you are—or at least let him know that you are safe and well. He loves you dearly, Rod, my boy.”
“And I love him—yes, I’ll admit it, I love him dearly, and Aunt Lois too. But this is a matter of personal pride, Whitley. You spoke a moment ago of Uncle Allen’s personal pride. Well, I’ve got mine too, and that day of my last visit to Keokuk, when he told me that not one dollar of his fortune would ever be mine unless I agreed to certain abominable conditions he chose to lay down, I on my side resolved that I would show him I could win a fortune from the world by my own unaided efforts. And that’s what I’m going to do, Whitley; make no mistake. I don’t want him to butt in and interfere in any way. I am going to play this game absolutely alone, and luckily my name gives no clue to the lawyer Ben Bragdon or anyone else here of my relationship with the rich banker of Keokuk, Allen Miller.”