"You'll get advice from Dorns in due time." She saw his face darken at this, and went hurriedly on. "Besides, father would give up his trip and stay right here to fight it out beside you--and he must have the voyage. He needs the vacation; he needs to learn all over how to play. And I don't want their visit spoiled by a lot of worry, dear; we want them to have a good time." "All right," agreed Armstrong. "We'll say nothing about it all." Yet he was aware that Dorothy's pleading was largely for his own sake, and to keep him off the subject while at home. On the following Monday, Armstrong received a telephone request from Mansfield that he send Wren over to the latter's office at once. The lawyer was curt and noncommittal, or so Armstrong fancied. Wren did not return before Armstrong left for home, nor was there any chance to see Wren in the morning, for the Demings were to arrive by an early train and Armstrong motored in with Dorothy to meet them. His worry had redoubled. The train was late. Armstrong left Dorothy at the train exit and went to a telephone booth. He called the office, discovered that Jimmy Wren was out--and that Robert Dorns had left a call there for him. Two minutes later he thrilled to the voice of Dorns. "Hello, Armstrong! Can you come over to Mansfield's office at three this afternoon?" "You bet! Any news?" "Nope. I'll have some by that time, though. So long." When Armstrong rejoined Dorothy before the train exit, her eyes widened at sight of his radiant face. She seized his arm eagerly. "Reese! What is it? Good news?"' He smiled. "Conference this afternoon with Dorns and Mansfield." "Now! Aren't you ashamed of the way you've worried? Reese, there's something that has just occurred to me. You remember Muirhead, that Western man we met at the Grays' on Christmas day--the one who was telling about the Stockmen's Protective Association? I think that was the name of his cattle organization--" Armstrong nodded. "Sure. What about it?" "Why, it suggested something to me! Last night, you were talking about forming some organization of the stockholders to fight Macgowan. Couldn't you give it that very name--Stockholders' Protective Association? It's a splendid name!" "Good!" Armstrong's eyes kindled. "Fine idea, Dot! Sure, I'll take up the idea, and if Mansfield approves--but here comes the crowd. Train's in." "Oh--there's father--Reese, don't you dare breathe a word of trouble!" The Demings joined them with hearty greetings. J. Fortescue Deming clapped his son-in-law on the shoulder admiringly. "Reese, you're looking like a fighting-cock! When Dot left us so hurriedly, I had a notion you were in some sort of a business fight. Win out?" "Well, I'm winning!" Armstrong laughed as the words left his lips. He knew suddenly that he was all right again, that he was indeed winning. After those few words from Robert Dorns, ten minutes ago, the clouds had lifted.