“Don’t like to take his na’ty medicine?” said he.  “Well, now, I’ll tell you.  I know Plant mighty well.  He eats out of my hand.  He just loves me as a father.  If I should go to him and say; ’Plant, my agile sylph, these people are my friends.  Give them their nice little permit and let them run away and play,’ why, he’d do it in a minute.”  Baker rolled his eyes drolly at Welton.  “Can this be the shadow of doubt!  You disbelieve my power?” He leaned forward and tapped Welton’s knee.  His voice became grave:  “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll bet you a thousand dollars I can get your permit for you!"

The two men looked steadily into each other’s eyes.

At last Welton drew a deep sigh.

“I’ll go you,” said he.

Baker laughed gleefully.

“It’s a cinch,” said he.  “Now, honest, don’t you think so?  Do you give up?  Will you give me a check now?”

“I’ll give you a check, and you can hunt up a good stakeholder,” said Welton.  “Shall I make it out to Plant?” he inquired sarcastically.

“Make the check out to me,” said Baker.  “I’ll just let Plant hold the stakes and decide the bet.”

He rose.

“Bring out the fiery, untamed steed!” he cried.  “I must away!”

“Not to-night?” cried Bob in astonishment.

“Plant’s in his upper camp,” said Baker, “and it’s only five miles by trail.  There’s still a moon.”

“But why this haste?”

“Well,” said Baker, spreading his sturdy legs apart and surveying first one and then the other.  “To tell you the truth, our old friend Plant is getting hostile about these prods from Washington, and he intimated he’d better hear from me before midnight to-day.”

“You’ve already seen him!” cried Bob.

But Baker merely grinned.

As he stood by his horse preparing to mount, he remarked casually.

“Just picked up a new man for my land business—­name Oldham.”

“Never heard of him,” said Welton.

“He isn’t the Lucky Lands Oldham, is he?” asked Bob.

“Same chicken,” replied Baker; then, as Bob laughed, “Think he’s phoney?  Maybe he’ll take watching—­and maybe he won’t.  I’m a good little watcher.  But I do know he’s got ’em all running up the street with their hats in their hands when it comes to getting results.”

X

Baker must have won his bet, for Welton never again saw his check for one thousand dollars, until it was returned to him cancelled.  Nor did Baker himself return.  He sent instead a note advising some one to go over to Plant’s headquarters.  Accordingly Bob saddled his horse, and followed the messenger back to the Supervisor’s summer quarters.

After an hour and a half of pleasant riding through the great forest, the trail dropped into a wagon road which soon led them to a fine, open meadow.

“Where does the road go to in the other direction?” Bob asked his guide.