His mind inflamed with the slight put upon his sister by the ignoring of her intercession on behalf of Fred, young Rozier rode his pony like mad to report the insult to his father that methods might be devised for the atonement. Clattering into the barn, he left his lather-dripping pony to the care of a groom and burst into the banker's study. In no pleasant frame of mind at the disappearance of the merchant whose notes he had guaranteed, the president of the savings institution was thrown into a violent rage when his wife had informed him of their daughter's indiscretion. With instructions that his son be sent to him instantly upon his return, he retired to his den. As the sound of the rapid hoof-beats rang in the yard, he sprang to his feet and was pacing to and fro, like a caged lion, when the lad entered. Pausing when the boy closed the door behind him, he snarled: "Did you get it?" "No." So furious at the failure that, for a moment, he could only gurgle, the banker finally blurted: "Why not?" Abashed at his father's wrath, the heir to the Rozier wealth shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. "Speak, you fool!" roared his sire. "I'll wager you botched it--as you do everything. Take that chair by my desk and tell me why you didn't recover the note--if you can." And dropping into his leather-upholstered chair, he glowered at his son. Stung to the quick by the sneer in his parent's tone, young Rozier forgot his fear of the man staring at him and graphically and concisely related all that had occurred from the time his mother had sent him on his mission. With beetling brows and frequent outbursts of profanity, the banker listened to the description of the manner in which the supposed miner had refused to give up the note and his pride-wounding comment that it's contents were of no importance. "He thinks the request of a Rozier is 'nothing,' does he?" he snarled. "I'll teach him it is very much of a something." But his rage was forgotten when his offspring told of Fred's struggle with his tormentor and the startling incident of the beard. "Are you positive that you saw the whiskers clear of his face?" he demanded. "It might have seemed that way if Consollas pulled out a handful of hairs." "I'm willing to take my oath that the beard is false, sir," returned the young man. From under his bushy brows the banker scrutinized his son's face, thrumming on his desk the while. What he saw made him believe that the boy was telling the truth to the best of his knowledge and at last he observed: "I'm not surprised. I'm not surprised. I didn't like the man's looks from the first. He was too impudent when I offered to pay him for saving Sally, altogether too impudent." "Well, you're so much in," rejoined his son, aware of his sire's weakness. "He might have asked you twenty-five thousand for doing it. You're lucky to get off so easy."