“Oh, Uncle Terrence isn’t at all the sort of hampered prospector you read about in the books. He doesn’t go mooning around, expecting to ‘strike it rich’ and running the risk of leaving his bones in the desert. “No, Uncle Terry is likely to make another fortune before he dies——” “Oh! Then maybe you will be rich!” cried Tavia, breaking in. “No.” Garry shook his head with a quizzical smile on his lips and in his eyes. “No. He vowed I should never see the color of his money. First, he said, he’d leave it to found a home for indignant rattlesnakes. And he’d surely have plenty of inmates, for rattlers seem always to be indignant,” he added with a chuckle. Dorothy wanted awfully to ask him why he had quarreled with his uncle—or _vice versa_; but that would have been too personal upon first meeting. She liked the young man more and more; and in spite of Tavia’s loss they parted at the end of the hour in great good spirits. “I’m going to be just as busy as I can be this afternoon,” Garry Knapp announced, as they went out. “But I shall get back to the hotel to supper. I wasn’t in last night when you ladies were down. May I eat at your table?” and his eyes squinted up again in that droll way Dorothy had come to look for. “How do you know we ate in the hotel last evening?” demanded Tavia, promptly. “Asked the head waiter,” replied Garry Knapp, unabashed. “If you are so much interested in whether we take proper nourishment or not, you had better join us at dinner,” Dorothy said, laughing. “It’s a bet!” declared the young Westerner, and lifting his broad-brimmed hat he left the girls upon the sidewalk outside the restaurant. “Isn’t he the very nicest—but, oh, Doro! what shall I do?” exclaimed the miserable Tavia. “All my money——” “Let’s go back and see if it’s been found.” “Oh, not a chance!” gasped Tavia. “That horrid woman——” “I scarcely believe that we can lay it to Mrs. Halbridge’s door in any particular,” said Dorothy, gravely. “You should not have left your bag on the counter.” “She laid hers there! And, oh, Doro! it was full of money,” sighed her friend. “Probably your bag had been taken before you even touched hers.” “Oh, dear! why did it have to happen to _me_—and at just this time. When I need things so much. Not a thing to wear! And it’s going to be a cold, cold winter, too!” Tavia would joke “if the heavens fell”—that was her nature. But that she was seriously embarrassed for funds Dorothy Dale knew right well. “If it had only been your bag that was lost,” wailed Tavia, “you would telegraph to Aunt Winnie and get more money!” “And I shall do that in this case,” said her friend, placidly. “Oh! no you won’t!” cried Tavia, suddenly. “I will not take another cent from your Aunt Winnie White—who’s the most blessed, generous, free, open-handed person who ever——” “Goodness! no further attributes?” laughed Dorothy.