“I don’t think so,” returned Mr. Boise with a cheerful smile.  “You probably couldn’t influence me in the least; but that charming young lady who was with you yesterday afternoon—­your sister or something, I believe, wasn’t it—­she might.”

Johnny stiffened.

“Then we don’t want it,” he quietly decided, and took his hat.

“That’s the stuff!” yelled Boise in delight.  “You belong out West!  Well, Johnny, I’m afraid you’ll have to have it as a matter of sentiment, and partly on the charming young lady’s account, whether you like it or not.  Now what have you to say about it, you young bantam?”

“Much obliged,” laughed Johnny, recovering from his huff in a hurry.  “I thank you for both of us.”

“Don’t mention it,” replied Boise easily, and chuckling in a way that did him good.  “Give my very warmest regards to the young lady in question.”

“Would you care to come down-stairs and give them to her yourself?” invited Johnny, a trifle ashamed that he had resented the quite evidently sincere admiration of Boise for both Constance and himself.

“So early in the morning?” laughed Boise, putting on his sombrero with alacrity.  “It must be serious,” and, clapping Johnny heartily on the shoulder with a hand which in its lightest touch came down with the force of a mallet, he led the way to the elevator.

At the curb Mr. Boise, who was also confronting a busy day, delighted both the girls and Johnny by the sort of well-wishes that a real man can make people believe, and when they drove away Constance was blushing and Polly was actually threatening to adopt him.

The next stop was at Collaton’s, where Johnny bought from that nonchalantly pleased young man his interest in the Gamble-Collaton Irrigation Company for five thousand dollars, A check for which amount he borrowed from Polly while Collaton was signing the transfer.

Next he went to the offices of the Western Developing Company, and the president of that extensive concern waved him away with both hands.

“If you’ve come about that Sancho Hills Basin land of yours, talk to me about it in a theater lobby sometime,” Washburn warned Johnny in advance.  “We discuss nothing but real business up here.”

“I’ll bet you five thousand acres of the land that this is real business,” Johnny offered.  “The S. W. & P. has just secured control of the B. F. & N. W., and intends to run the main line to Puget Sound right square through the middle of my land.  Now are you busy?”

“Sit down and have a cigar,” invited Washburn, and slammed a call-bell.  “Billy,” he told a boy, “if Mr. Rothberg comes in on that appointment tell him I’ll see him in a few minutes.  Now, Johnny, how do I know that the S. W. & P. will actually build that connecting link through your land?”

“Ask Boise,” directed Johnny confidently.  “He’s at the Hotel Midas, and he has appointments in his room for the most of the morning.”