“The explanation is for our own stockholders, and not for outsiders. A word, a whisper might leak through and reach the fellows who could block the deal. We mustn’t allow that. My boy, my boy”--and here the colonel became very gentle, very fatherly--“I’m doing the best I can for you. I’m trying to hand you a fortune, and you’ve got to help me--in spite of Pard Matt. It’s your duty to help me. You’ll never have such a chance to pick out a brownstone front on Easy Street, and you mustn’t let the opportunity slip through your fingers.” To say that Joe McGlory was not influenced by the colonel’s words would be to say that he was not human. The cowboy wanted money, not for its own sake, but for the great things he felt he could do with it. Not the least of the cowboy’s desires was to help Matt in some of his far-reaching aims in the motor field. He accepted Billings’ story, and he reached out and gripped his hand heartily. “I’m with you, chaps, taps, and latigoes!” he exclaimed. “But say, can’t I tell Pard Matt? If he knew----” But the colonel was afraid of “Pard Matt.” The king of the motor boys had a brain altogether too keen. “Not a word, not a syllable,” adjured Billings. “All that I have said, Joe, you must keep under your hat--until after the meeting to-night and until after the ‘Dream’ is sold. You must buckle in and help me and let Matt think what he will. Afterward, when the money is divided, you can show Pard Matt where he was wrong, and he’ll be glad to think that he did not interfere with us in our work.” “But he’s going to interfere,” murmured McGlory. “Whenever Matt King sets out to do a thing he does it. That’s his style. He’s got the fake report, and he’ll use it at the meeting to-night--thinking he’s doing me a good turn.” “I believe that Levitt will catch him,” asserted the colonel. “You don’t know my pard as well as I do,” returned the cowboy dejectedly. “I wonder if I couldn’t----” McGlory paused. “Couldn’t what?” urged the colonel. “Never mind now. I’m going out and see if I can’t do something.” Billings stared steadily at the lad for a moment. “All right,” said he, “go and do what you can. Remember I have confidence in you, and you’re not to breathe a word regarding what we have talked about. I shall have to get to New York before three o’clock. The bank closes then, and I’ve got to get that bullion. I’ll have to start in a fast car by one. Come back and report to me before I leave.” “I’ll do it,” replied the cowboy, hurrying out of the room. The colonel chuckled, threw himself back in a chair, and lighted a cigar. “Easy, easy, easy!” he muttered. “I can wrap McGlory around my fingers and not half try. Now, if King is captured, and if I can be sure he won’t meddle with me to-night, everything will be serene.” The resourceful colonel accepted his worries calmly. He had too much dignity to take part in a foot race, so he remained in a comfortable chair by the window and waited for news.