had to tell me the whole story, and I wish you could have heard ’em.  Dave smoothing things when Hollis got too hard on himself, and Hollis chipping in again for fear I wouldn’t get full weight for Dave’s part.  And the story sure enough does hinge on him.  Likely that’s why Tisdale gave it to your magazine; to show up Dave Weatherbee.  But those men on the train—­they had the seat in front of me so’s I heard it plain—­lost their bearings.  They left out Dave and put Hollis in a bad light.  He was ’caught red-handed and never was brought to an honest trial.’  And it was clear besides, being ’hand in glove with the Secretary of the Interior’ he had a ‘pull with the Federal court.’  I couldn’t stand for it.”  The prospector’s voice reached high pitch, his forehead creased in many fine lines, his eyes scintillated their blue glacier lights, and he added, striking the table with his clenched hand, “I up and says:  ’It’s all a damn lie.’”

There was a silence.  The self-possession and swiftness of the Japanese boy saved the sherbet glass and its contents, but the mayor, who had been interrupted in a confidential quotation of real estate values to Miss Morganstein, sat staring at Banks in amazement.  A spark of admiration shot through the astonishment in Annabel’s eyes then, catching the little man’s aggressive glance, she covered her pride with her ironical smile.  Mrs. Weatherbee was the only one who did not look at Banks.  Her inscrutable face was turned to the valley.  She might never have heard of Hollis Tisdale or, indeed, of David.  But Elizabeth, who had kept the thread of both conversations, said:  “You were right.  There was a coroner’s inquest that vindicated Mr. Tisdale at the time.”

“But,” explained Geraldine courageously, “that was left out of the magazine.  Mr. Daniels took it all accurately, just as Mr. Tisdale told it, word for word; but the story was cut terribly.  Nothing at all was said of Mr. Weatherbee’s part.  We couldn’t understand that, for with names suppressed, there could be no motive, and he was so clearly the leading character.  But magazines have no conscience.  It’s anything, with the new ones at least, to catch the public eye, and they stir more melodrama into their truths than the yellow journals do.  But Mr. Daniels apologized to Mr. Tisdale, and explained how he wasn’t responsible for the editor’s note or for printing his name, and he did his best to make it up in his report of the disaster at Cascade tunnel.  That story went into the Press straight and has been widely copied.”

It was in Jimmie’s favor that Lucky Banks had read the newspaper story, and also that they had had those hours of intimacy at the west portal.  “Well, likely you ain’t to blame,” the prospector admitted finally, “but there’s people who don’t know Hollis Tisdale that might believe what the magazine says.  And, if I was you, I’d take a little run over to Washington or New York, wherever it is—­I’ll put up the money—­and locate that editor.  I’d make him fix it right, my, yes.”