The other guests murmured an assent to this general proposition. Suddenly Uncle Dick's face brightened. "Look here! I know Skinner, and I'll stop there-- No, blank it all! I can't, for it's off my route! Well, then, we'll fix it this way. Key will go there and tell Skinner that I say that I'LL send the money to that Sacramento hound. That'll fix it!" Collinson's brow cleared; the solution of the difficulty seemed to satisfy everybody, and the close-shaven man smiled. "And I'll secure it," he said, "and give Collinson a sight draft on myself at San Francisco." "What's that for?" said Collinson, with a sudden suffusion on each cheek. "In case of accident." "Wot accident?" persisted Collinson, with a dark look of suspicion on his usually placid face. "In case we should forget it," said the close-shaven man, with a laugh. "And do you suppose that if you boys went and forgot it that I'd have anything to do with your d--d paper?" said Collinson, a murky cloud coming into his eyes. "Why, that's only business, Colly," interposed Uncle Dick quickly; "that's all Jim Parker means; he's a business man, don't you see. Suppose we got killed! You've that draft to show." "Show who?" growled Collinson. "Why,--hang it!--our friends, our heirs, our relations--to get your money, hesitated Uncle Dick. "And do you kalkilate," said Collinson, with deeply laboring breath, "that if you got killed, that I'd be coming on your folks for the worth of the d--d truck I giv ye? Go 'way! Lemme git out o' this. You're makin' me tired." He stalked to the door, lit his pipe, and began to walk up and down the gravelly river-bed. Uncle Dick followed him. From time to time the two other guests heard the sounds of alternate protest and explanation as they passed and repassed the windows. Preble Key smiled, Parker shrugged his shoulders. "He'll be thinkin' you've begrudged him your grub if you don't--that's the way with these business men," said Uncle Dick's voice in one of these intervals. Presently they reentered the house, Uncle Dick saying casually to Parker, "You can leave that draft on the bar when you're ready to go to-morrow;" and the incident was presumed to have ended. But Collinson did not glance in the direction of Parker for the rest of the evening; and, indeed, standing with his back to the chimney, more than once fell into that stolid abstraction which was supposed to be the contemplation of his absent wife.