came due; and will continue to be renewed as long as the interest payments are kept up. You see the land is good security. But I have sufficient influence to induce them to sell those mortgages to us. Then we can do as we please when they come due."
"Then that means putting up the full amount of the loan instead of merely an option," interposed Bates, swiftly. "That will take a lot more money."
"Well," said Boyd, leaning back, "why did you suppose I let you in on this at all for, Will? Didn't you suppose I could raise enough to cover preliminary work and options myself, if that was all there was to it?"
"I was wondering. How much?"
Boyd told him.
"And how do you propose dividing?"
"Same as before," said Boyd, firmly.
"H'm! What's to prevent my taking this up by myself?"
"I am. You can't get on in this thing without me, Will, and you know it: not in this community."
Bates chewed his cigar for some time in silence.
"All right," he agreed at last. "I'll put it up. But I'd like to go see this old fellow first."
"It will do no good," said Boyd.
"It will do no harm," countered Bates.
At that moment Daphne and Kenneth were seated side by side on the great lower branch of Dolman's House. It was one of the tepid, caressing, almost tropical evenings that this season so often brings to Southern California, with a loud glad chorus of crickets and tree toads, and a deep brooding stillness back of them, and soft wandering breezes visiting flowers drowsily asleep. The house seemed small and stuffy and too much lighted. For some time they had been sitting in a happy sociable silence. Suddenly Daphne sat up with a sharp and frightened cry.
"What is it?" cried Kenneth, alarmed.
But for a few moments she was too much agitated to reply. She seized and held Kenneth's hand with both of hers. They were icy cold.
"Oh, I don't know what was the matter with me!" she cried at last. "It's too foolish! It's just one of those silly fits that
