“I shall have another matter to talk over with you soon, Jed,” he said.  “But that will come later, when my plans are more complete.  Good afternoon and thank you once more.  You’ve been pretty fine through all this secret-keeping business, if you don’t mind my saying so.  And a mighty true friend.  So true,” he added, “that I shall, in all probability, ask you to assume another trust for me before long.  I can’t think of any one else to whom I could so safely leave it.  Good-by.”

One more visitor came that afternoon.  To be exact, he did not come until evening.  He opened the outer door very softly and tiptoed into the living-room.  Jed was sitting by the little “gas burner” stove, one knee drawn up and his foot swinging.  There was a saucepan perched on top of the stove.  A small hand lamp on the table furnished the only light.  He did not hear the person who entered and when a big hand was laid upon his shoulder he started violently.

“Eh?” he exclaimed, his foot falling with a thump to the floor.  “Who? . . .  Oh, it’s you, ain’t it, Sam? . . .  Good land, you made me jump!  I must be gettin’ nervous, I guess.”

Captain Sam looked at him in some surprise.  “Gracious king, I believe you are,” he observed.  “I didn’t think you had any nerves, Jed.  No, nor any temper, either, until last night.  You pretty nigh blew me out of water then.  Ho, ho!”

Jed was much distressed.  “Sho, sho, Sam,” he stammered; “I’m awful sorry about that.  I—­I wasn’t feelin’ exactly—­er—­first rate or I wouldn’t have talked to you that way.  I—­I—­you know I didn’t mean it, don’t you, Sam?”

The captain pulled forward a chair and sat down.  He chuckled.  “Well, I must say it did sound as if you meant it, Jed,” he declared.  “Yes, sir, I cal’late the average person would have been willin’ to risk a small bet—­say a couple of million—­that you meant it.  When you ordered me to go home I just tucked my tail down and went.  Yes, sir, if you didn’t mean it you had me fooled.  Ho, ho!”

Jed’s distress was keener than ever.  “Mercy sakes alive!” he cried.  “Did I tell you to go home, Sam?  Yes, yes, I remember I did.  Sho, sho! . . .  Well, I’m awful sorry.  I hope you’ll forgive me.  ’Twan’t any way for a feller like me to talk—­to you.”

Captain Sam’s big hand fell upon his friend’s knee with a stinging slap.  “You’re wrong there, Jed,” he declared, with emphasis.  “’Twas just the way for you to talk to me.  I needed it; and,” with another chuckle, “I got it, too, didn’t I?  Ho, ho!”

“Sam, I snum, I—­”

“Sshh!  You’re goin’ to say you’re sorry again; I can see it in your eye.  Well, don’t you do it.  You told me to go home and think, Jed, and those were just the orders I needed.  I did go home and I did think. . . .  Humph!  Thinkin’s a kind of upsettin’ job sometimes, ain’t it, especially when you sit right down and think about yourself, what you are compared to what you think you are.  Ever think about yourself that way, Jed?”