“There’s nothing to it.  You’ve got to do it!  Why, man, do you realize what a confounded mess you’ve got us into?”

Conniston went back into the bath-room rather seriously.  But a moment later Hapgood heard him chuckling again.

The Japanese boy came to summon them, and they followed him, once more clean and feeling respectable, into a cozy little breakfast-room where their hostess was waiting for them.  And over their cold meat, tinned fruits and vegetables, and fresh milk Conniston told her of their misfortune.  She laughed with him at his account of the winning of the two horses and seemed disposed to indorse his careless view of the whole episode rather than Hapgood’s pessimistic outlook.

“It’s all right, I suppose, since Conniston has a rich father,” Roger admitted, with a sigh.

She regarded him curiously for a moment.

“Some men,” she said, quietly, “have been known to go to work and make money for themselves when they needed it.”

Conniston told her of his little friend William, of Indian Creek, adding, carelessly, “I’m glad I don’t have to feel like that.”

“You mean that you had rather have money given to you than to feel that you had earned it yourself?”

“Quite naturally, Miss Crawford.  My father is William Conniston, Senior.  Maybe you have heard of him?”

He was proud to be his father’s son, to have his own name so intimately connected with that of a man who was not only a millionaire many times over, but who was a power in Wall Street and known as such to the four ends of the earth.

“Yes.  I have heard of him.  He made his own money, didn’t he?  In the West, too.”

“Yes.  A mining expert in the beginning, I believe, and a mine-owner in the end.  Oh, the governor knows how to make the dollars grow, all right!”

Again she made no answer.  But after a little she said:  “If you wish to wire to your father for money”—­and there was just the faintest note of scorn in her voice—­“you needn’t wait until you get to Crawfordsville.  We have a telephone, and you can telephone your message from here.”

“Good!” cried Hapgood, eagerly.  “Better do that—­and right away, Greek.  There’s no use losing time.”

Conniston thanked her, and a moment later, they rose from the table and stepped to the telephone, which she showed to him in a little library.  When he got Central in Crawfordsville Miss Crawford told the girl for him to charge all costs to her father and that Mr. Conniston would pay here for the service.  So she took his message and telephoned it to the Western Union office.

“You will rush it, will you, please?” asked Conniston.

“Certainly.  And the answer?  Shall we telephone it out to you?”

“No.  We’ll be in Crawfordsville, and—­Wait a moment.”  To Miss Crawford:  “We may stay here until evening?”

“Oh, you must.  It is too hot now to think of riding.”