locale on the main line, and it stood for law and order and improvement. He hoped to make Metzal a better place than Pioche some day, but he approved of Pioche and its general public spirit. This official was a square man, Sheridan had found out in previous dealings. He went beyond his duties in kindly, uncharged-for advice. Through him Sheridan had gained control of Lake of the Woods.
"Pioche's booming, sir," said the man genially. "Big tourist hotel coming. Palatial. Up to date. Two hundred rooms and three hundred baths, or something like that. You want to get busy at your lake and build something of the sort there, on a smaller scale, to catch the overflow."
"I'm a rancher," smiled Sheridan. "I've come here in the interests of a friend of mine. I want to help them, or rather get you to help them prove up on their property. Two women. It may go in both their names or in one. Miss Burrows has a good moral title. I want to see it legal," and he gave the Commissioner a short account of the Ghost Mountain venture.
"I've heard of the ladies. Seen them, in point of fact," the other answered. "Glad to serve them. Tell them to come right in and see me, Sheridan. And here's the papers for them to fill in. Glad to see you at any time. Goodby." If he raised eyebrows at Sheridan's interest in Mary Burrows, he did not do so until the rancher had gone.
Pioche, like many another city, had spent more time over the selection of its town site than that of its depot. The station and freight yards were
