Morganstein pondered a silent moment, then said slowly, “Kittitas is close enough to be a suburb of Ellensburg, and that’s where the Wenatchee stage meets the Milwaukee Puget Sound train.  Friend of mine made the trip about that time; didn’t say anything of a break in the road.”

“There’s just one road through,” answered Banks, “and that’s the one they used for hauling from the Northern Pacific line while this railroad was building.  Likely there was a stage then, but it ain’t running now.”

Frederic pondered again, then a gleam of intelligence flashed in his eyes.  “Did Tisdale make that trip from Kittitas alone?” he asked.

Banks shook his head.  “He didn’t mention any passengers.  Likely it was having to drive himself, after his hand was hurt, that did the mischief.  Anyhow, he’s had a close call; fought it out sooner than let the doctors take his hand; and he never let one of us boys know.  That was just the way with Dave Weatherbee; they was a team.  But I’m going to look him up, now, soon’s I can.  He had to get that nurse to write for him.  Likely there ain’t a man around to tend to his business; he might be all out of money.”

“I guess, with the Aurora mine to back him, you needn’t worry.”

The little man shook his head.  “It will take more security than the Aurora to open a bank account in Washington, D.C.  I ain’t saying anything against Dave Weatherbee’s strike,” he added quickly, “but, when you talk Alaska to those fellows off there in the east, they get cold feet.”

Morganstein looked off, chuckling his appreciation.  They had arrived at the final curve; on one side, rising from the narrow shoulder, stood Annabel’s new home, while on the other the mountain sloped abruptly to Weatherbee’s vale.  Banks pointed out the peach orchard on the bench at the top of the pocket; the rim of masonry, pushing through the snow, that marked the reservoir; the apple tract below.

“I see,” said Frederic, “and this mountain we are on must be the one Mrs. Weatherbee noticed, looking down from that bench.  Reminded her of some kind of a beast!”

Banks nodded.  “It looked like a cross between a cougar and a husky in the fall.  One place you catch sight of two heads.  But she’ll be tamer in the spring, when things begin to grow.  There’s more peaches, set in narrow terraces where the road cross-cuts down there, and all these small hummocks under the snow are grapes.  It’s warm on this south slope and sheltered from the frosts; the vines took right ahold; and, with fillers of strawberries hurrying on the green, Dave’s wife won’t know the mountain by summer, my, no.”

“Presume,” said the financier abruptly, “you expect to supply both tracts with water from those springs?”