“I do not know whether I can possibly spare the time,” reflected Mr. Cameron, half aloud. If it had been any man besides Radlett, Mr. Cameron would have refused at once, as he had for some time given up all such work. But he was glad to do a favor to Baird, and also he felt that he would like to have him and Jean thrown together for a while. “Still I can get in touch with Quentin, and if they need me there I can get there at short notice. Yes, I think that I can take the time. I shall be interested to see how the mine is doing with this wonderful new manager of yours. Frankly, it never used to be much good.” “Don’t be discouraging, Father!” said Jean. “You might at least be an optimist until you have seen Baird’s mine.” “If your father should be a pessimist after seeing it, I should certainly give up the mine, I have such respect for his judgment.” Mr. Cameron expanded under the compliment. “By the way, did you not have a big riot or something up there this spring? I read about it, I think, in the Eastern papers. They said that there had been a race riot in Kay which, but for the coolness and nerve of the manager, would have been a desperate outbreak.” “Yes, there was a desperate state of affairs,” answered Radlett, and he proceeded to give an account of the riot, the details of which he had learned through a postscript added by Reade to one of Loring’s reports. When he reached the part of the story which told how the manager had held the mob at bay until the arrival of the deputies, both Jean and her father exclaimed with approval. Jean’s eyes were shining with the enthusiasm which she always felt for a brave act well carried out. “And,” said Radlett in conclusion, “since then there has not been a hint of trouble in the camp. In fact a labor agitator came up there last month, and the men themselves ran him out of camp.” “You certainly have a wonderful man there,” said Mr. Cameron. “If I had chanced upon him first, you would never have had him. If there is one thing on which I pride myself, it is my power to read character at first sight. I should have snapped up a man like that in no time. What is his name?” “His name,” said Radlett, “is Stephen Loring.” He watched Mr. Cameron closely as he uttered the name, and was amused to see the expression of blank dismay and astonishment upon that gentleman’s face. “Loring! Stephen Loring!” cried Mr. Cameron, completely taken aback. “Stephen Loring,” repeated Radlett doggedly. “Why, we dismissed him from Quentin for—” “Father, don’t!” ejaculated Jean suddenly. Her cheeks burned, while her eyes pleaded with her father to spare Loring’s past. Radlett looked at her with a quick glance of appreciation. “It is all right, Jean,” he said. “Loring told me all about it himself.” “He told you,” queried Mr. Cameron incredulously, “about the accident, about his drunkenness and all; and after that you put him in charge of the mine? How could you?”