"That there's the name of my new hotel. Started up sence you went away. Me and old man Tucker been running boardin'-houses side by side all these years. What did he do last summer but go out and git him a sign as big as the side of the house, and git Nick Fenny to paint 'Our Hotel' on it; then he put it up right across the sidewalk, from the gate clean out to the road. I didn't say nothin', but let the boys keep on a-kiddin' me till the next day; then I got me a sign jus' like his, with 'Your Hotel' on it, and put it up crost my sidewalk. He'd give a pretty if they was both down now; but he won't take his down while mine is up, and I ain't got no notion of taking it down." "Yes," said Mr. Opp, absently, for his mind was still on the time-table; "I see that there's an accommodation that departs out of Coreyville in the neighborhood of noon to-morrow. It's a little unconvenient, I'm afraid, but do you think you could get me back in time to take it?" "Why, what's yer hurry?" asked Jimmy, steering for mid-stream. "I thought you'd come to visit a spell, with all them bags and things." Mr. Opp carelessly tossed back the sleeve of the coat, to display more fully the name on the suit-case. "Them's drummers' samples," he said almost reverently--"the finest line of shoes that have ever been put out by any house in the United States, bar none." "Why, I thought you was in the insurance business," said Jimmy. "Oh, no; that was last year, just previous to my reporting on a newspaper. This"--and Mr. Opp tried to spread out his hands, but was slightly deterred by the size of his cuffs--"this is the chance I been looking for all my life. It takes brains and a' educated nerve, and a knowledge of the world. I ought to create considerable capital in the next few years. And just as soon as I do"--and Mr. Opp leaned earnestly toward Jimmy, and tapped one finger upon the palm of his other hand--"just as soon as I do, I intend to buy up all the land lying between Turtle Creek and the river. There's enough oil under that there ground to ca'm the troubled waters of the Pacific Ocean. You remember old Mr. Beeker? Well, he told me, ten years ago, that he bored a well for brine over there, and it got so full of black petroleum he had to abandon it. Now, I'm calculating on forming a stock company,--you and Mr. Tucker, I and old man Hager, and one or two others,--and buying up that ground. Then we'll sink a test well, get up a derrick and a' engine, and have the thing running in no time. The main thing is a competent manager. You know I'm thinking seriously of taking it myself? It's too big a proposition to run any risks with." "Here, say, wait a minute; how long have you had this here shoe job?" Jimmy caught madly at the first fact in sight to keep him from being swept away by the flood of Mr. Opp's oily possibilities.