“As soon as he has the ‘Pauper’s Dream’ cinched, Billings begins to hit the simon-pure, ne-plus-ultra gold-bearing vein. Buyers flock to the scene. The colonel picks out this syndicate of Random & Griggs’ as the boys to get the mine. Levitt comes out to examine the mine for the syndicate. The stockholders who have been frozen out begin to grow restive, and to threaten legal complications. Then Billings shows his fine Italian hand by hiring Levitt to make out that report, saying the ‘Dream’ is a pocket, and that the pocket is empty. That’s for the soreheaded stockholders to see, and they see it. So, in that way, legal complications are sidetracked while the colonel is selling the mine to the syndicate.” McGlory relapsed into silence for a mile, while the runabout behaved beautifully and drove long shafts of light from the search lamps into the growing dark. “That,” continued the cowboy, stirring, “is the yarn the colonel put up to me. I swallowed it. But, pard, I wanted to tell you. The colonel said you mustn’t know a thing until after the deal was closed and the proceeds divided. As I figure it now, I reckon the colonel was afraid you’d jab a little horse sense into his yarn and puncture it. Anyhow, the truth remains that he made me believe I’d lose a fortune by telling you the truth about that private report. ‘Tell your friend about it later,’ says the colonel, ‘and then have a good laugh with him over the way he was fooled.’ So I smoothed down my rising feathers, laid low, and planned to sneak the private report on you all by myself. “You know how I did that. You trusted me, and asked the old darky to tell me where you were. As soon as Uncle Tom had delivered your message, I rushed right off to the colonel and repeated it to him. Then I met you, executed my brilliant play, got the report, and delivered it to my good friend the colonel. He now has it in his pocket, or else he has burned it. Anyhow, you can bet a million against the hole in a doughnut that he don’t show that report to the syndicate. The question is, pard, will those syndicate people believe you and me?” “It won’t matter much,” answered Matt, “whether they do or don’t. By jumping in there and telling them the truth, we’ll be placing ourselves on record.” “I see. Then, if they’re skinned, we can read our titles clear and they’ll have only themselves to blame. But, pard, what have you been up to since I worked through that brilliant trick and left you staring at me from the bushes?” “I’ve been a prisoner in the loft over the garage,” answered Matt. “A prisoner?” echoed McGlory. “How was that?” Matt told him the details.