What do you suppose those wretches were arguing about in the dining-room last night, over their whisky and soda? Sentiment was "not in it," as they would say. They were talking up a scheme--a scheme that Tom has had in mind ever since he first saw the Thousand Springs six years ago, when he had the Snake River placer-mining fever. It was of no use then, because electrical transmission was in its infancy, its long-distance capacities undreamed of. But Harshaw was down there fishing last summer, and he was able to satisfy the only doubt Tom has had as to some natural feature of the scheme--I don't know what; but Harshaw has settled it, and is as wild as Tom himself about the thing. Also he wants to put into it all the money he can recover out of his cousin's ranch. (I shouldn't think the future of that partnership would be exactly happy!) And now they propose to take hold of it together, and at once. Harshaw, who, it seems, is enough of an engineer to run a level, will go down with Tom and make the preliminary surveys. Tom will work up the plans and estimates, and prepare a report, which Harshaw will take to London, where his father has influence in the City, and the sanguine child sees himself placing it in the twinkling of an eye. Tom made no secret with me of their scheme, and I fell upon him at once. "You are not taking advantage of that innocent in your own house!" I said. "Do you take him for an innocent? He has about as shrewd a business head--but he has no money, anyhow. I shall have to put up for the whole trip." To be honest, that was just what I had feared; but it didn't sound well to say so. Tom is always putting up for things that never come to anything--for us. He tried to propitiate me with the news that I was to go with them. "And what do you propose to do with our guest?" "Take her along. Why not? It's as hard a trip as any I know of, for the distance. Her troubles won't keep her awake, nor spoil her appetite, after the first day's ride." "I don't know but you are right," I said; "but wild horses couldn't drag her if _he_ goes. And how about the other Harshaw--the one she has promised to marry?" "She isn't going to marry him, is she? I should think she had gone about far enough, to meet that fellow halfway." Even if she wasn't going to marry him, I said, it might be civil to tell him so. She had listened to his accuser; she could hardly refuse to listen to him. "I think, myself, the dear boy has skipped the country," said Tom, who is unblushingly on Cecil's side. "If he hasn't, the letter will fetch him. She will have time to settle his hash before we start." "Before we start! And when do you propose to start?"--I shouldn't have been surprised if he had said "to-morrow," but he considerately gives me until Thursday.