Stearn laughed. "Great Scott!" he cried, "you ought to come with me on a round of visits. It would be an eye-opener for a wealthy young sprig like you. Why, if I had ten dollars a day to spend on special diet, stimulants, and the like, I could get through every cent of the money." "Sorry I haven't time today for slumming. Goodby. I may not see you again for quite awhile." "Going abroad?" "Yes; but my plans are indefinite." "Well, young man, when you come back to Colorado, bring a wife, or, better still, look around for one before you go." "I'll think it over. But I must be off. I'm due at my lawyer's." "Those fellows who rake in gold by the bushel are all alike," grumbled Stearn, when the door had closed on his visitor. "I did imagine, after what he had said, that he would skin a fifty off his wad for the benefit of the poor bedridden devils on my list. Ah, well! They'll miss his mother at Bison. And what did he mean by his questions? On my honor, he struck me as slightly cracked." A fortnight later, when Power was far beyond the reach of thanks, the cashier of Smith & Moffat's bank sent a formal little note, stating that he was instructed by Mr. John Darien Power to hand him (Dr. Stearn) one hundred dollars on the first of every month during the next seven years, "for the benefit of the sick poor in your district, and in memory of Mary Elizabeth Power." If the doctor would kindly call, etc. Stearn rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Oh," said he, to himself, "is _that_ what he was after? Well, it's a lesson, even to a grayhead like me. I misjudged him shockingly." That same period of seven years proved a stumbling-block to others beside the gruff but kind-hearted medico. Peter MacGonigal, for one, was "dog-goned etarnally" when he heard of it. A lawyer and two bankers, one from Denver and another from New York, were appointed trustees of Power's estate, real and personal, and the arrangement was partly explained to Mac and Jake, so that they might understand how their interests would be safeguarded. On that historic occasion Jake's real name was disclosed. Hitherto, no one in Bison believed that he possessed a surname; but, under pressure, he "allowed" he was "riz" in Texas, and his father's name was James Cutler. The arrangement was that MacGonigal should control the mine and Jake the ranch for seven years. If Power did not return about the end of that time, and both men were living, a further six months should be allowed to pass, and then each would become the owner of the respective properties under highly favorable terms. "I may as well say that I shall come back right enough," said Power, smiling at their bewilderment. "I am only settling matters now to please my lawyer, who wants to avoid a suit for intestacy, or a long argument to presume my death in case I am not heard of again. That is all." "Is it?" gasped MacGonigal. "Yes. In any event, neither of you will be a loser." "But whar in hell air you goin', Derry?"