“Well, good-bye, Landray,” he said, as he swung himself into his saddle; then he leaned forward in the direction of the young man. “Now, don't forget—be sure and look me up if you get the chance; I want to see more of you!” “I will, with pleasure,” answered Stephen heartily, for he meant to see Gibbs again. The latter galloped away With his orderly at his heels. “Landray!” muttered the Confederate, staring hard at Stephen. The name was strangely familiar—he had known some one once—“Landray!” he repeated, still under his breath, and watched Stephen and his men move briskly off across the field. They were about to disappear from sight behind a clump of trees, when he turned suddenly to one of his guards. “Call him back!” he cried excitedly. “Tell, him a man by the name of Rogers wants a word with him! You won't? Well, maybe it wa'n'. him.” CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX STEPHEN was mustered out, and returned to Benson, where having nothing better in prospect he opened a real estate office; but from the very first this feeble enterprise was doomed to failure; and in disgust, at the end of a few weeks, he disposed of the business for a trifling sum to an aimless appearing stranger, who endured for perhaps a month in a small and dirty room at the back of a large gilt sign which read “Thomas Carrington, Successor to Stephen Landray, Real Estate and Insurance. Money to Loan.” The last being the merest fiction, and meant to meet a future contingency; and then Mr. Carrington, no more fortunate than Stephen had been, retired precipitously from business, and was successorless. It was shortly after his retirement that he chanced to meet Stephen on the street. “Anything doing, captain?” he asked casually, and with the happy unconcern of a gentleman the stress of whose condition was relieved by a temperament that rendered even failure endurable. “No,” said Stephen; he was slightly embarrassed, he recalled the trifling sum he had taken in exchange for the fiction of good-will. Glancing furtively at his questioner, he was impressed by the fact that Mr. Carrington was looking the reverse of prosperous, his coat was shiny and the seams showed white in spite of the liberal inking he had given them with the last ink in the office ink-well. “I didn't know but you might have hit on something. You got out easy, yet not so easy as I did; I was kicked out. Couldn't pay my rent. But I figure I'm saving ten a month; that's better than nothing.” Carrington said with a cheerful twinkle. “Yes,” agreed Stephen, “that's better than nothing.” “It only shows up on paper though,” said Carrington. “Now if I could live on paper—” “Some of my friends are urging me to go into politics,” said Stephen. “They want me to run for county clerk.” Carrington nodded; he had heard this it seemed. “If I secure the nomination, I am certain of election. And I may be able to throw something in your way—I should like to,” said Stephen. “Why?” asked Carrington.