Bowen gazed at him again, heavy-lidded. Was this rank deception? He decided that it was not. There was nothing crooked about it. Besides, Dickover had certainly known just how his words and manner to Bowen would be seen and recognized; Dickover had tried to do him a good turn. He was justified in taking advantage of the situation. “Frankly, Harkness,” said Bowen slowly, “I don’t want to name any names. I’m here to try and dispose of some low-grade properties; rich in ore, but not in rich ore. Maybe you know that the Dickover people touch nothing but pretty rich propositions in the silver field.” “Sure, I understand.” Harkness nodded assent. “But I heard a rumor that Dickover was here for the purpose of opening up a low-grade system; somebody had invented a means of smelting—” “Nothing to it,” asserted Bowen. “At least, I was talking about it with Dickover on the train, and he didn’t say—” He checked himself abruptly. He had no business talking like this. Harkness, however, came to his feet as if unwilling to detain the magnate further. “Much obliged for your time, Mr. Bowen; mighty good of you, I’m sure! No special news from Tonopah way? Nothing on the inside that you’d pass along—” “Oh, sure!” Bowen grinned. “The Yellow Jack was sold to Dickover by a Swede named Olafson. I sold the mine to Olafson two years ago—for five hundred beans!” Harkness whistled. “Say—but you wouldn’t let me use that, of course.” “Go ahead. I should worry!” Bowen chuckled. “The joke is on me, and everybody up at Tonopah knows it. Only don’t make me out a fool, Harkness; two years ago there was no ruby vein known in that property.” “Trust me! Thanks, a thousand times.” Bowen went to his room, and sighed at the luxury of it. After that talk with the mining reporter, he had almost believed in his own assured wealth. When he sought the “hotel personals” in the next morning’s _Chronicle_, he smiled! With Mr. Dickover, on the Overland, arrived Mr. Robert Bowen, of Tonopah, who, it is rumored, has recently disposed of large holdings in the Dickover interests. Mr. Bowen is heavily interested in low-grade silver properties near Tonopah. And upon the mining page were separate stories; one concerning the Yellow Jack, the other, by the authority of Dickover himself, flatly contradicting the rumor that the Dickover interests had anything to do with low-grade silver ores. “If nobody calls my little bluff, all right!” thought Bowen. “Now for work.” Having a list of every one who might put capital into his holdings, Bowen engaged a car by the day and set forth. At four that afternoon, with ten dollars left in his pocket and no hope left in his soul, Bob Bowen of Tonopah reentered his room at the hotel and threw down his grip.