“He is one of the Company,” said Gibbons, as he filled his pipe and lit it, “but he lacks a good deal, I can tell you, of bein’ the biggest toad in the puddle. There’s old Colonel Alexander, he’s the fellow that lays out the plans on a gigantic scale. Then there’s General Ira House. I ‘spect he has the biggest reputation of any town boomer on the western half of the continent—I allow as what he has. And when you’re talkin’ about smart ones, you don’t want to forget B. Webster Legal; he’s the corporation attorney, and you can bet your last [74] half dollar the company will never run agin’ any shoals as long as he stands at the wheel and writes up contracts. Oh, he’s a hummer, and no mistake.” “It’s reported down thar’ that half a dozen different railroad companies are tryin’ mighty hard to get him for their attorney, but he saws, ‘Not much; I have cast my fortune with my friends and with Waterville, and I’ll stick by the enterprise as long as a town lot can be sold.’.rdquo; “The Town Company is mighty cute,” he went on, “they never have any law suits, ‘cause their contracts are drawn up with knots tied knee deep all over the fellow they’re dealin’ with.” It is probable that Steve Gibbons would have gone on indefinitely had not Vance begged to be excused, pleading a previous engagement. They bade each other good night, Gibbons starting for the stables to look after his horses, and Vance walked leisurely along toward the Bonifield’s home. That afternoon Louise had accepted his invitation to go on a fishing jaunt some day during the week to a place called Silver Point Lake, some two miles away. 8082 Her simplicity of manner and frankness, though possessing, withal, a demure humor, which was one of her charming characteristics, had greatly fascinated him. They were standing on the cottage porch in the soft summer twilight, while a mountain breeze was tossing the ringlets of Louise’s hair about, as if coquetting with them. Vance was studying her face while she was looking far away toward the western [75] mountains, where the sun had left a reddened glow on the sky, which, he said, was a promise of fair weather for the fishing excursion the next day. Presently, a creaky voice commenced calling: “Louise! Louise! where is your par?” and before Vance’s fair companion could explain, a woman well advanced in years came out on the porch, and seemed surprised at seeing Vance, and eyed him critically. “Aunt Sally,” said Louise, “this is Mr. Gilder, papa’s friend. Mr. Gilder, this is my Aunt Sally, father’s sister.” Aunt Sally acknowledged the introduction with a stately bow. Her apparel was of the fashion of a quarter of a century ago. “Am very glad to see you, suh,” she said, addressing Vance. “I understand you are interested with my brother in his mine. I can give you, Mr. Gilder, some very excellent advice; I can, indeed, suh, but I will defer it until some other time.” Then turning to Louise, she said, “Do you know where your par’s gone?”