I reached fer that paper with both fists. Yas, there it was--a piece about so long. "_Goldstone offers the chanst of a lifetime,_" it read. "_Now is when a little money'll make a pile. Land is cheap t'-day, but later on it'll bring a big price._" I got on to my feet. They was about a quarter of a' inch of stubble on my face, and I was as shaky as a quakin' asp. But I had my spunk up again. "Ain't I got a little money," I says, "--that nest-aig? Wal, I'll just drop down to Goldstone, and, if that boom is bony fido, and growin', _I'll git in on it._" Next mornin', I went over to the deepot, borraed some paper from the agent, and writ Mace a note. "_Little gal,_" I says in the letter, "_don't you go back on me. I'm prepared to work my fingers down to the first knuckle fer you, and it's only right you' paw should want you took care of good._" Then Number 201 come in and I hopped abroad. "It's land 'r no lady," I says to myself, puttin' my little post-card photo of Macie into my pocket as the train pulled out; "--land 'r no lady." But when I hit Goldstone, I plumb got the heart-disease. The same ole long street was facin' the track; the same scatterin' houses was standin' to the north and south; and the same bunch of dobe shacks was over towards the east, where the greasers lived. The town wasn't changed none! Another minute, and I felt more chipper. West of town, two 'r three fellers was walkin' 'round, stakin' out the mesquite. And nigh the station, 'twixt them and me, was a brand-new, hip-roofed shanty with a long black-and-white sign acrosst it. The sign said "Real Estate." Wal, _that_ looked like _business!_ I bulged in. They was a' awful dudey feller inside, settin' at a table and makin' chicken-tracks on a big sheet of blue paper. "Howdy," I says, "you must be one of them Chicago gents?" He jumped up and shook hands. "Yas, I am," he says; "but only a land-agent, y' savvy. They's three others in town that's got _capital_. The one that lives over yonder at the hotel is a millionaire. Then they's a doctor (left a _fine_ practice to come), and a preacher. But the preacher ain't just one of you' _ord'nary_ pulpit pounders." I stooped over to git a look at that sheet of blue paper. It had lines all criss-cross on it, same as a checker-board, and little, square, white spots showin' now and again. "_Ex_cuse me fer astin'," I says, "but what's this?" "This is the new map of Goldstone," he says, "and drawed two mile square. Here"--pointin' to a white spot--"'ll be the Normal College, and here"--pointin' to another--"the Merchants' _Ex_change. Then, a-course, the Pavilion fer Indus'tral _Ex_hibitions----" "Pardner," I broke in, "if Goldstone was in the middle 'r east part of Oklahomaw, where crops is allus fine, this boom wouldn't surprise me a _little_ bit. But out _this_ way, where they's only a show fer cattle, I cain't just understand it. Now, they must be some _reason._"