The discovery of coal coming on top of sudden activity in railway survey filled the hills with prospectors, amateur and otherwise. But no further discoveries were made. Indeed, Mr. Braden's discovery had been made by accident, according to his own account of it, which was more or less along historic lines. He proceeded serenely with development. He spoke largely of potential output, refusing to consider tentative proposals. Later he might organize a company and offer shares to the public, but just then he preferred to keep the entire ownership himself. He became a personage of more local importance than ever, deferred to, his opinions quoted. In this notoriety he basked as in the sun. Almost daily he visited his prospect.

He was driving back to town one evening when he met Gerald French. Mr. Braden, who for reasons of his own had rather avoided these young men since their father's death, nodded pleasantly and would have passed on, but Gerald stopped and held up his hand.

"I'd like to have a little talk with you," he said.

"Can you come in to-morrow? I'm rather in a hurry. To-night I have to preside at a meeting."

"What I have to say won't take long," young French told him. "I want to come to a definite understanding with you about this coal property."

Mr. Braden, for reasons of his own, experienced a decidedly nervous feeling. "Huh!" he said. "An understanding! What do you mean?"

"You know damned well what I mean," Gerald replied. "You and my father were in this thing together. He had an interest—or was to have one. We expect to have the same interest. Is that clear enough for you?"

It could not be much clearer, but nevertheless Mr. Braden if not bewildered gave an excellent imitation of that state of mind.

"Your father's interest in my coal property!" he exclaimed. "There is some mistake. Your father had no interest."

"Oh, yes, he had," Gerald maintained.

"But I tell you you are mistaken," Mr. Braden protested. "I give you my absolute assurance that he had no interest whatever."

"Your assurance—hell!" Gerald sneered. "What do you take me for, anyway? Do you think I'm not wise to you?"

"If you have any evidence of your father's interest, produce it," Mr. Braden returned.

"So that's the ground you take, is it?" said Gerald. "Well, I guess you know I haven't any evidence that would hold. But all the same the two of you were partners in this deal. I know it, whether I can prove it or not. And what we want is to be let in on this on a fifty-fifty basis with you."

"You do, hey?" Mr. Braden replied sharply. "Well, you won't be. Your father had no interest at all. As it is, he owes me money, which—"

"Forget it!" Gerald interrupted. "He steered a lot of business your way, and I'll bet you broke better than even. As for the coal, I saw a sample of it on his desk months ago. You weren't giving out samples. Then he was trying to buy the Winton property. Buy it? He couldn't have bought anything the way he was fixed at the time, and you know it. You were going to put up for it, and you know that, too."

"What has that to do with the coal?"

"It had something to do with it. I'm telling you that we want a slice, and we're going to have it—somehow."

"If you think I'm going to give away property to people who have no right to it, you're much mistaken," Mr. Braden stated emphatically. "If you can bring any evidence—"

"I told you I couldn't, because I think you know that already. And you probably know we are broke. Being broke, we're not going to be particular about how we get money."

"Are you threatening me?" Mr. Braden asked somewhat nervously.

"Call it what you like. You're pretty smooth, Braden, but you're also a hog; and you're a fool to hold out on us. You'll lose by it. Do you think I don't know where the money came from for a lot of things—for blowing Mackay's ditch for instance? Do you suppose I thought Garland was putting up himself?"

"Are you trying to blackmail me?" Mr. Braden demanded.

"No," Gerald replied. "I'm giving you a chance now to come through."

"You won't get any money from me," Mr. Braden declared. "I financed your father from time to time for reasons of—er—friendship, but I'm not going to do the like for you young men. If you want money, earn it like other people."

"That's your last word, is it?"

"Absolutely my last."

"All right," said Gerald. "Now go ahead, Braden, and be careful you don't bump into something hard."

Mr. Braden drove on. At first Gerald's words gave him considerable uneasiness, but as he thought them over he came to the comfortable conclusion that they were principally bluff. Gerald had admitted that he had no evidence of his father's interest. Also they were broke, as Mr. Braden knew very well. All they had was the ranch, which was mortgaged to the hilt, and the mortgage was far in arrears. Likely they would get out of the country, scatter and go to the devil individually.

He had seen no more of Angus Mackay, though he knew that the latter had had a survey made. There could be no collusion between Mackay and the French boys, to embarrass him. The latter were all more or less hostile to Mackay, and especially Blake.

So Mr. Braden drove home, had supper, presided at his meeting and sought his own apartments. There, having lighted his lamp, he opened his little safe and, taking out a bundle of papers, returned with them to the light. By rights, the papers which he had abstracted from the safe of Godfrey French should have been on top of the bundle; but they were not. He stripped off the rubber band which bound the bundle, and ran through it rapidly. He could not find what he sought.

Mr. Braden sat up straight, his eyes widening in an expression which bore a strong family resemblance to fear. Once more, with fingers which shook a little, he went through the papers. Nothing! And yet he had a distinct recollection of snapping that rubber band around them.

Catching up the lamp he set it beside the safe and went through its contents. His movements became more hurried, more nervous as his search progressed. But at the end of it, when he had gone through the contents of the safe half a dozen times, it was absolutely certain that his search was in vain. He rose to his feet, but sat down because something seemed to have happened to the stiffening of his knees.

"My God!" he said aloud, "they're gone!"

It appeared to be a shocking discovery. He had found the safe locked, but somebody must have had access thereto. He felt for the key which hung behind the safe, and found it. Nobody, to his knowledge, knew of that hiding place; but somebody must have known of it. Naturally, he thought of Gerald French. But if French had gone through his safe, he would have dropped some hint of it during their interview.

A new thought struck him. Was anything else missing? Engrossed in the search for those particular papers he had not thought of that. He had no schedule of the safe's contents, but he had an excellent memory. Once more he went through the papers on the floor, and at last he straightened up from his task with a full-sized oath.

"Nick Garland!" he muttered. "That envelope is gone, too!"

Now, some years before, Garland had secured money from Mr. Braden on a promissory note, apparently endorsed by a well-to-do but somewhat illiterate rancher. When the note matured Garland was unable to meet it, and Mr. Braden intimated that he would have recourse to the liability of the endorser. Whereupon Garland, in a panic, had admitted that he himself had reproduced the rancher's painful scrawl. Mr. Braden secured his signature to a statement to that effect, and filed it away with the note. Eventually Garland paid or worked out the face of the note, but Mr. Braden kept it and the confession as well; Garland for obvious reasons being unable to insist upon their delivery. Now the envelope containing that old note and the signed statement had disappeared. The inference, to Mr. Braden, required no elaborate reasoning.