Gary looked up quickly. “I didn’t see any man,” he said gravely. “There wasn’t any man. I think you just imagined it. Waddell used to imagine the same thing. And he used to see a cat. He particularly hated the cat.” James Blaine Hawkins gave a gasp. Gary looked at him sharply and saw that he was once more staring at the empty air near the door. The cat had come in again and was gazing questioningly about her as if trying to decide where she would curl herself down for a nap. The eyes of James Blaine Hawkins pulled themselves away from the terrifying vision near the door, and turned toward Faith. He gave a sudden yell and rushed out of the cabin. Faith ran and jumped upon the bunk, her tail the size of a bologna sausage. Gary got up and followed James Blaine Hawkins as far as the door. “Look out you don’t hear the Voice, Mr. Hawkins,” he said commiseratingly. “If I let my imagination get a fair running start, I couldn’t stay in this cañon over night. I’d be a plain nut inside twenty-four hours.” James Blaine Hawkins was busy cranking his car. If he heard Gary speak he paid no attention. He got a sputter from the engine, rushed to the wheel and coaxed it with spark and gas-lever, straddled in over the side and went careening away down the trail to the open desert beyond. Faith came inquisitively to the door, and Gary picked her up in his hands and held her, purring, against his face while he stroked her mottled back. “I think you’ve saved little Pat Connolly a darned lot of trouble,” he murmured into the cat’s ear. “Thrashing that bird wouldn’t have had half the effect.” CHAPTER SIXTEEN “THERE’S MYSTERY HERE----” “Dear Pat:-- “In God’s name, what were you thinking of when you sent this fellow Hawkins over here with a five years’ contract? Couldn’t you see the man’s a crook? Are the lawyers in Los Angeles all _dead_, that you couldn’t call one up on the ’phone and ask a question or two about letting places on shares? Of course you’d want to write the contract yourself. Perfect Patricia is the little lady that invented brains! If she doesn’t know all there is to know in the world, she’ll go as far as she does know and fake the rest. “Permit me to congratulate you, Miss Connolly, upon the artistic manner in which you handed over to James Blaine Hawkins the best imitation of a legacy that I ever saw! Of course you’d have to invent a new way of having your pocket picked. Two thirds and found! My word! “Any ordinary, peanut-headed man would have given the usual one half of increase in stock, and the old stock made good at the end of the term of contract. And _not_ found, Pat! No one but you would ever dream of doing a thing like that. And he says you agreed to buy his gas and oil. Pat, if ever a girl needed some one to look after her, you’re that small person. And he bragged about it--the dirty whelp. Laughed at the way you met his terms and thought they were all right!