“That’s Neuman from Ruxton, one of the biggest wheat men in Washington.”

Kurt repressed a whistle of surprise.  Neuman was Anderson’s only rival in the great, fertile valley.  What were Neuman and Chris Dorn doing with their heads together?

“I thought he was Neuman,” replied Kurt, feeling his way.  “Is he in on the big deal with father?”

“Which one?” queried the proprietor, with shrewd eyes, taking Kurt’s measure.  “You’re in on both, of course.”

“Sure.  I mean the wheat sale, not the I.W.W. deal,” replied Kurt.  He hazarded a guess with that mention of the I.W.W.  No sooner had the words passed his lips than he divined he was on the track of sinister events.

“Your father sold out to that Spokane miller.  No, Neuman is not in on that.”

“I was surprised to hear father had sold the wheat.  Was it speculation or guarantee?”

“Old Chris guaranteed sixty bushels.  There were friends of his here who advised against it.  Did you have rain over there?”

“Fine.  The wheat will go over sixty bushels.  I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”

“When it rained you hurried over to boost the price.  Well, it’s too late.”

“Is Glidden here?” queried Kurt, hazarding another guess.

“Don’t talk so loud,” warned the proprietor.  “Yes, he just got here in a car with two other men.  He’s up-stairs having supper in his room.”

“Supper!” Kurt echoed the word, and averted his face to hide the leap of his blood.  “That reminds me, I’m hungry.”

He went into the big, dimly lighted dining-room.  There was a shelf on one side as he went in, and here, with his back turned to the room, he laid the disjointed gun and his hat.  Several newspapers lying near attracted his eye.  Quickly he slipped them under and around the gun, and then took a seat at the nearest table.  A buxom German waitress came for his order.  He gave it while he gazed around at his grim-faced old father and the burly Neuman, and his ears throbbed to the beat of his blood.  His hand trembled on the table.  His thoughts flashed almost too swiftly for comprehension.  It took a stern effort to gain self-control.

Evil of some nature was afoot.  Neuman’s presence there was a strange, disturbing fact.  Kurt had made two guesses, both alarmingly correct.  If he had any more illusions or hopes, he dispelled them.  His father had been won over by this arch conspirator of the I.W.W.  And, despite his father’s close-fistedness where money was concerned, that eighty thousand dollars, or part of it, was in danger.

Kurt wondered how he could get possession of it.  If he could he would return it to the bank and wire a warning to the Spokane buyer that the wheat was not safe.  He might persuade his father to turn over the amount of the debt to Anderson.  While thinking and planning, Kurt kept an eye on his father and rather neglected his supper.  Presently, when old Dorn and Neuman rose and left the dining-room, Kurt followed them.  His father was whispering to the proprietor over the desk, and at Kurt’s touch he glared his astonishment.