“Pooh!” returned Claymore, easily; “you mustn’t mind the howling of such a wild man. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He won’t hurt you.” “Oh! that isn’t what I fear. I don’t like to hear a man talk like that, because it shows that he believes he has been wronged. There might be some truth in it. If so, I should be the first to make it right.” “But there isn’t anything wrong. It was all a plain matter of business. Hank Low had a lot of land that he couldn’t do anything with. We asked him his price for it, we had a dicker with him, and he sold. What could be simpler, or fairer, than that?” Instead of answering, the clergyman looked over the ground where they were standing. It was a level, but rocky, spot between high hills. No house was in sight, but half a mile farther up the valley was Hank Low’s cabin. This spot where they stood had been part of Hank Low’s farm. He had had a hard struggle trying to make a living out of his land, and had not succeeded very well. There was a heavy mortgage to be lifted, besides. One day a couple of men came to Mason Creek and spent a good deal of time tramping about the country. One of them was William Claymore. After a few days of tramping about, Claymore offered to buy the most useless part of Hank Low’s farm. He mentioned the name of Rev. Elijah Judson as a man who was interested with him in some kind of a plan. Nothing very definite was said about it, but Low understood that the clergyman meant to put up a private school for young ladies, and wanted the land for that purpose. A deal was made by which Low was able to pay off his mortgage, but nothing more. He would have been content with that if he had not discovered, when it was too late, that the parties who bought his land had no idea of putting up a school or anything of that sort. It was at the time when the fact was just becoming known that oil could be found in great quantities in the far Western lands. Claymore and his companion, by making secret tests of the soil, had come to the conclusion that this worthless end of Hank Low’s farm was the best place in the State for oil wells. So they bought several acres for next to nothing. It might be supposed that their next step would be to sink wells and build a refinery, or a pipe line. But such things cost money, and neither Claymore nor his partner had any left to speak of. They had to raise it, and in this task they had the assistance of the Rev. Elijah Judson. The clergyman had not been in Colorado when Hank Low’s land was bought. In fact, he did not half understand the scheme. He had not been a success as a preacher, but he had a little money, some two or three thousand dollars, and Claymore had persuaded him that with it he could make his fortune in oil. There was nothing dishonest in discovering oil and digging for it. If there had been, the clergyman would not have touched the scheme.