“I am telling you what I have really no right to reveal,” said Dolly, “but I promised Alan not to let you sell if I could help it.” The Colonel was staggered by the revelation; his face was working under strong excitement. “I thought that old rascal”--he meant Milburn--“was powerfully anxious to trade. Huh! Looky' here, daughter, this news is almost too good to be true. Why, another railroad would make my town-lots bound up like fury, and as for this mountain-land--whew! It may be as you say. Ray Miller certainly is a wheel-horse.” “It was not his idea,” said Dolly, loyally. “In fact, he tried his best to discourage Alan at first--till he saw what could be done. Since then he's been secretly working at it night and day.” “Whew!” whistled the Colonel. “I don't care a cent _whose_ idea it is; if it goes through it's a good one, and, now that I think of it, the necessary capital is all that is needed to make a big spec' over there.” “So you won't sell to Mr. Milburn, then?” asked Dolly, humbly grateful for her father's change of mood. “Sell to that old dough-faced scamp?” snorted Barclay. “Well, he 'll think I won't in a minute! Do you reckon I don't want to have some sort o' finger in the pie? Whether the road's built or not, I want my chance.” “But remember I am giving away state secrets,” said Dolly. “He must not know that you have heard about the road.” “I 'll not give that away,” the old man promised, with a smile, and he turned to the door as if eager to face Milburn. “Huh! That old scamp coming here to do me one! The idea!” The two men, as they faced each other a moment later, presented an interesting study of human forces held well in check. The Colonel leaned on the mantel-piece and looked down at the toe of his boot, with which he pushed a chunk of wood beneath the logs. “You never can tell about a woman' s whims, Mil-burn,” he said. “Dolly's set her heart on holding onto that land, and I reckon I'm too easily wriggled about by my women folks. I reckon we'd better call it off.” “Oh, all right--all right!” said Milburn, with a start and a sharp contraction of his brows. “I'm that away some myse'f. My gals git me into devilish scrapes sometimes, an' I'm always sayin' they got to stop it. A man loses too much by lettin' 'em dabble in his business. But I was jest goin' to say that I mought raise my bid fifty cents on the acre ruther than trapse away over to Springtown to see Buford.”