"Keep on all your clothes, Colin, my boy," he counselled. "Don't say anything to me that you'll be sorry for after I've shown you that I'm only doin' you a friendly turn. But I've found out a mighty interesting thing about this girl--Kate Arden, they call her. As a friend of yours I'm givin' you the tip. It would be too bad to have a girl with a nice tidy little sum of money comin' to her slip past you when all you have to do is to reach and take her." The boss's face was surly. "You must have been talkin' with some one in Barn Withee's crew," he suggested. "And what does Withee's crew say?" demanded Britt, with heat. "It wasn't a sewin'-circle I was attendin' out on that fire-line," retorted MacLeod, with just as much vigor. "There was somethin' bein' talked, but I didn't stop to listen." "Look here, MacLeod," cried his employer. Britt came close to him and clutched the belt of his wool jacket. "There are some nasty liars in these woods just now. There are some of them that will go to state-prison for attempted blackmail. You are too bright a man not to realize which is your own side. I know you well enough to believe that all the lunatics and slanderers this side of Castonia couldn't turn you against your friends. And you've got no two better friends than John Barrett and I." "I'm not gainsaying it, Mr. Britt. But what has joinin' this matrimonial agency of yours got to do with your friendship or my work?" "I've found out, Colin, that this girl has got money comin' to her from her folks. She doesn't know about it yet. No one knows about it, except us here. She never belonged to the Skeets and Bushees. She was stolen. This money has been waitin' for her. Barrett and I are bank-men, and things like this come to our attention when no one else would hear of it. There's--there's--" Britt paused and slid a look at Barrett from under an eyebrow cocked inquiringly. Barrett slyly spread ten fingers. "There's ten thousand dollars comin' to her in clean cash, Colin. Now, what do you think of that?" "I think it's a ratty kind of a story," said MacLeod, bluntly. Britt's temper flared. "Don't you accuse me of lyin'," he roared. "The girl has got the money comin', I say." "Maybe it _is_ comin'," replied the boss, doggedly; "but has she got any name comin'? Has she got any folks comin'? Has she got anything comin' except somebody's hush-money?" The woodsman's keen scenting of the trail discomposed the Honorable Pulaski for a moment. But after a husky clearing of his throat he returned to the work in hand.