“That brings me up to the main point,” said Neighbor casually. “What have you been and gone and done? Because a gentleman just offered me the highest market price for your scalp.” “What?” “He wanted me to abate you--to abolish you--to beef you--to murder you! Don’t be so dumb! So I thought I’d drop in and get your views.” “What’s the joke?” “It’s no joke. This _hombre_ sure wants you killed off. You’ll save time by taking that for proved. And,” said Neighbor wistfully, “I needed the money too.” “But who--who----” “Not at all,” said Jones. “Why--why? You tell me why, why, first, and see how well it fits in with who, who. I know the answer all right but I haven’t heard the riddle yet.” “Oi, yoi, yoi!” Young Drake sat up with a sudden alertness and stared hard at his visitor. “It’s Uncle Ducky’s money--that’s why--I’ll bet a cooky!” “Not with me, you won’t,” said Neighbor; “for if your Uncle Ducky left any worldly goods the gentleman that offers a bounty for you is the very man to covet those goods. Just how getting you killed would bring him in anything I don’t almost see.” “That’s just it!” cried Roger Drake. “He’s got the money now--or somebody has; I haven’t. I’m trying to find it.” “Son,” said Neighbor judicially, “this sounds real thrillin’. Tell it to me.” Young Drake hesitated. “No offense, Mr. Jones; but I have been strongly advised to say nothing.” Neighbor nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes! Mystery; sorcery; silence; wisdom! ‘But how do you know I’m honest?’ says the lad in the story. ‘Why,’ says the other chap, ‘didn’t you just tell me so?’ Well, I’m honest. Go on! Also curious. That’s why I want to be told; but here is why you should want to tell me: If we were back in New York town you’d understand the ins and outs of things that I couldn’t make a guess at, and that it would take you large, dreary centuries to tell me about. Ever think of that?” “I gotcha!” said Roger joyously. “And this is your country, you mean; while I’m a mere stranger----” “Correct! Move up one girl! I never saw a merer stranger than you, Mr. Ducky. You’re so mere that none know you but to love you. Why, the boys you’ve met up with out on the range couldn’t even be hired to kill you, and they had to offer me the chance. Durned if I believe I’m going to do it myself! G’wan now; let’s hear the sad story of your life.” Chapter IV “When I think of that poor little answer waiting all alone for its own dear riddle,” said Ducky, much affected, “I can’t refuse. But I’ll only hit the high places. Uncle Roger is dead, and it isn’t a pleasant stunt to rake up all his faults and catalogue ’em.” He reflected a little while. “My uncle put me through college and named me as his sole heir, for the reason--I had it from his own lips--that he lost father’s little property for him. Uncle Roger was the elder brother, head of the family, and all that.