"And next time I hope I shan't frighten you," Saxton went on. Raridan and Mr. Porter had walked down the long veranda to the steps, and Saxton and Miss Porter were following. "Oh, but you didn't!" the girl laughed at him. "But you dropped the flowers--" "But you shouldn't have noticed! It wasn't gallant!" They had reached the others, and Raridan broke in with his good night, and he and Saxton went down the walk together. "They seem to have struck up an acquaintance," observed Mr. Porter, settling himself to a fresh cigar. "Mr. Saxton is very nice," said Evelyn. "Oh, he's all right," said her father, easily. CHAPTER IV AT POINDEXTER'S John Saxton trotted his pony through a broken gate into a great yard that had once been sown in blue grass, and at the center of which lay the crumbled ruins of a fountain. This was clearly no ordinary establishment, as he had been warned, and he was uncertain how to hail it. However, before he could make his presence known, a frowsy man in corduroy emerged from the great front door and came toward him. "My name's Saxton, and you must be Snyder." "Correct," said the man and they shook hands. "Going to stay a while?" "A day or two." John threw down the slicker in which he had wrapped a few articles from his bag at Great River, the nearest railway station. "I got your letter all right," said Snyder. "Walk in and help yourself." He led the pony toward the outbuildings, while Saxton filled his pipe and viewed the pile before him with interest. He had been making a careful inspection of all the properties that had fallen to his care. This had necessitated a good deal of traveling. He had begun in Colorado and worked eastward, going slowly, and getting the best advice obtainable as to the value of his principals' holdings. Much of their property was practically worthless. Title had been gained under foreclosure to vast areas which had no value. A waterworks plant stood in the prairie where there had once been a Kansas town. The place was depopulated and the smokestack stood as a monument to blighted hopes. Ranch houses were inhabited by squatters, who had not been on his books at all, and who paid no tribute to Boston. He was viewed with suspicion by these tenants, and on inquiry at the county seats, he found generally that they were lawless men, and that it would be better for him to let them alone. It was patent that they would not pay rent, and to eject them merely in the maintenance of a principle involved useless expense and violence. "This certainly beats them all," Saxton muttered aloud.