"Huh? No, I didn't say _water_-tight! Bill's incorporated, and everybody with two bits in his overalls is buying stock. Take my word, that stock's making a rocket look like a kid climbing a greased pole. I bought a block at par--first offering was at par, mind you. Nothing cheap about Bill! But then he's a fine, straight fellow, and everybody knows he wouldn't stand for any wildcatting. He's _got_ it, you see. Why, they keep guards standing over that mine with sawed-off shotguns--or so I heard. "What's that? Sure, I'll take you down there. If I get a chance, I'll have you meet Bill. Nothing swell-headed about him--I used to know him when he packed his grub out of here on two burros; wasn't so long ago, either, that he did that same thing--but everybody is after him now, of course. He always was popular and now his millions are not getting him the cold shoulder any, that I've noticed. Then he was just married to-day--this morning, upstairs in the parlor--with all the big bugs in town present. They're leaving to-morrow morning for California on their honeymoon. "You know, Fred, if you want a good, safe investment that will bring quick returns, Parowan's your best bet. Either buy Parowan Consolidated, or else go down and pick up some lots in the town. As for the stock, they're shipping gold out of there in the rock right now and building a mill with the proceeds. There's going to be a railroad in there soon as it can be put through; two, I heard to-day--but that may be just street gossip. Some one was saying a cut-off's coming through from Las Vegas to Parowan, and on to Goldfield. Don't know how true that is, but I do know for a fact that a line will be put through from Barstow or thereabouts. That's been talked of for quite a while, but Goldfield has lost the peak of her boom in the last few months, and it took this new Parowan strike to bring things to a head. "Bill's heading this way. You hold my place--I'm going to wander across his trail and meet him. If I can, I'll bring him over. I want you to meet the man that's being talked about more than any other man in the West to-day." The black-eyed man manoeuvered cleverly so that he met Bill within six feet of the settee where his friend was waiting. But Bill was halted in the middle of a group that seemed disinclined to make their greetings brief. They were important-looking men, money-makers every one, if looks meant anything. All were laughing; several were talking at once. The black-eyed man caught Bill's eye over the shoulder of those in front, and tilted his head backwards. Bill answered the look with a slight nod and gradually worked his way toward the signaller. "How are you, Davis? Pretty crowded here to-night." Mechanically Bill shook hands, that friendly ceremony having been forced upon him in the past two months until his hand went out as unconsciously as does the hand of a politician at election time. Davis held to the hand and drew him toward the settee.