The last game of cribbage had been settled, and Haywire Smithers had departed to his own place; Mrs. Tomkins had come home from the weekly meeting of the Two Palms Ladies' Aid and had gone up to bed; and Piute Tomkins was locking up for the night when Murray and Sandy Mackintavers came in from Morongo Valley—dusty, sun-bitten, and hungry.  
Piute listened sadly to their request for grub, and agreed to rustle up some. He was no longer proud and haughty before them; he had given up the unequal battle and had ceased to struggle. Virtue had descended gloomily upon him, even as a mantle.
 
"Step into the dinin' room, gents, and I'll discover somethin'," he announced.
 
"How's my patient?" asked Murray, pausing en route to the wash room.
 
"The chink? All right. Say, I reckon ye ain't heard the news about him?" Piute went back to his desk and procured a sheet of paper. "And about Scudder, too. Your friend sure busted somethin' in these parts, he sure did! Look over this here paper; it come out to-day, and I guess Scudder ain't seen it yet. I want to be watchin' when he does see it, that's all! Then I got a business proposal to lay before ye whilst ye eat."
 
Murray took the sheet, and an ejaculation broke from him as he saw that it was the first issue of Willyum's paper. He hurried after Sandy, made haste to get the sand and alkali out of his eyes and hair, and passed into the dining room. Piute lighted a lamp, and the two friends settled down to peruse the astounding results of Bill Hobbs's labors.
 
Mere print cannot reproduce the phenomenon. Mere printers cannot set in type all that Willyum, in his blissful ignorance, had achieved in that primary issue of the revived Helngon Star. The date had been unchanged. The advertisements along the sides had been untouched;, yet Willyum had managed to fill four columns, by dint of ornaments and other aids to progress.
 
The news story touched first upon Tom Lee, and was begun with this lead:
 
 
 
We got in our midst today tmo guys that come direct from tHe hall oj & Fame iNtwo tHe sentrel Presinct oF Two Palms$ tHe misterY has beeu sollved:*
 
 
 
The article went on to say, more or less legibly, that Tom Lee was immensely wealthy, and that he owned a string of oriental shops in the Bay region of San Francisco. He was, in fact, a magnate pure and simple in the antique line, and was rated many times a millionaire.
 
"Aiblins, now," observed Sandy, puzzling over the page with knotted brows, "Bill is tryin' to say somethin' about a man named Scudder, but I ain't right sure——"
 
Piute joined them, bringing in some dishes. "Scudder is a doc," he put in, "and a friend of the Chinee. I'd say, offhand, that he's due to raise partic'lar hell about to-morrow, when he sees that there paper!"
 
Murray whistled, as he perused the paper. "Say, Sandy—listen here!"
 
Willyum's remarks on Doctor Scudder were frankly illuminating about Willyum himself:
 
 
 
I wunst seen tHis gink iN neworLeens.?; wHen i was vagGed and hE was iN tHe dOck two for pedLing dope & Happy dust two the nlgge*rs & jUdje give him hEll,? for it——
 
 
 
Willyum's remarks, apparently, knew no shame over the fact that he had been "vagged"; but they excoriated Doctor Scudder as a peddler of "dream-books" and a supplier of dope.
 
They went on to say that Scudder had been forced to leave New Orleans for his own health; that he had there been a "dope" supplier to the underworld. In language of beautiful simplicity, Willyum said that Doctor Scudder was a top-notch crook and would murder his grandmother for a dollar.
 
Sandy broke into a roar of laughter, but Murray frowned gravely.
 
"Willyum's asleep now, I imagine—well, let him rest in peace until to-morrow! He's in bad."
 
"How come?" queried Mackintavers, while Piute stood by the kitchen door and listened hard.
 
"Libel. If these things aren't true, this man Scudder can just about rake the hair off Willyum! Confound it all, you go and put your foot in it when I'm not around, and then Bill Hobbs goes and does the same thing! Why, Scudder can sue for big damages——"
 
"Huh!" grunted Sandy complacently. "Let him sue! You can't draw blood out of a turnip, not even with the law to help ye. So this Tom Lee is a rich man, is he? That's interestin'."
 
Murray nodded. "Seems to be. Queer what he's doing here, Sandy! But the girl—the girl Claire! I tell you, she's white! That's the queerest thing of all."
 
Piute came forward, bearing coffee and flapjacks, and sat down to light his corncob. He wore a portentous and solemn air.
 
"Ye don't think there's nothin' wrong, do ye?" he asked.
 
"No," said Murray decisively. "Nothing. It's something we don't understand, but it's nothing wrong. Tom Lee is no ordinary man."
 
"I reckon not," said Piute drily. "He done offered five thousand for Morongo Valley."
 
The two friends quickly glanced at each other, then stared at Piute.
 
"Five thousand?" repeated Sandy, incredulous.
 
"Yep. Now I'm putting it straight up to you gents, layin' all cards down, and leavin' it to you to do the right thing if ye sell to him. He wants to see you and buy the property. I guess you'll sell at that figger, huh?"
 
Murray leaned back in his chair and gazed at Sandy.
 
"It's up to you, Mac," he said briefly.
 
"What's he want? the minin' rights or——?"
 
"The whole works," returned Piute. "Or so he allowed. All of it!"
 
"No tellin' his game," quoth Sandy. "Doc, find out his object when ye see him in the mornin', and we'll talk it over."
 
Murray nodded assent, astonished and mystified by such an offer for Morongo Valley. He was too weary to discuss it now, however, and he wended his way to bed without further delay.
 
Early in the morning he was aroused by voices, and sat up. Sandy, who occupied a second bed in the same room, was talking with Bill Hobbs, and the latter turned to Murray with a proud but modest grin.
 
"Hello, Doc! Mac says you seen the paper last night. Kinda nifty, ain't it?"
 
"A miracle," said Murray gravely. "How you did it, I can't figure out yet!"
 
"Oh, printin' ain't so much," observed Bill loftily. "There was a few mistakes, I seen on readin' her over, but next time she'll come through better. But what's this Mac is tellin' me about gettin' in bad?"
 
"All depends," responded Murray. "That story about Doctor Scudder—where on earth did you get the nerve to print that, you big boob?"
 
"Why, it's true!" asserted Willyum stoutly. "I was vagged down to N'Orleans, just like I printed it, and seen him in court bein' tried for supplyin' dust an' hop to——"
 
"Was he convicted?" demanded Murray.
 
"Nope. He slid through; his pals squared the bulls, I guess."
 
"Good Lord!" Murray began to dress. "Well, he can't get any money out of you, that's some satisfaction."
 
"Well, I ain't worried none," said Bill. "Leavin' all that out, how did the paper strike you—honest, now?"
 
"Great stuff, Willyum," responded Murray, whereat the earnest William glowed delightedly. "You've hit your vocation, if you can make it pay in these parts. You get to work learnin' how to print, and we'll look into the business end of it. If it seems likely to pay, then we'll all put it through together."
 
"That's treatin' me white, Doc," answered Bill.
 
"Well," said Murray thoughtfully, "what we'll do, I don't know yet." He turned to Sandy and put the issue squarely up to him.
 
"I'll see Tom Lee after breakfast. If there's no valid reason for keeping the place, why not make a good profit while we can? Let him take the whole place—unless you think there is any reason to keep it."
 
The mining man stared reflectively out of the window.
 
"There is and there ain't," he said slowly. "I'll be frank with ye, Murray—that place out there attracts me! We could settle there and make a fair livin' from the valley itself, what with the water there and all. Aiblins, now the quartz will pay, too. It's not big, but I'm thinking it runs big later on. Lookin' at it from the development angle, instead o' from the prospector's viewpoint, it might be worth keeping."
 
"All right, then we'll keep it." Murray turned to the doorway. "Come on down and let's get breakfast."
 
Half an hour later, the three partners were just pushing back their chairs from the breakfast table when they caught the sound of loud voices coming from the hotel office. The voices drew nearer, then in the doorway appeared the figures of Doctor Scudder and Piute.
 
"That's him," and Piute pointed out Bill Hobbs.
 
His face white with anger, a copy of the Helngon Star clenched in his hand, Doctor Scudder faced the amateur printer with blazing indignation.
 
"This is an outrage! As sure as my name is Scudder, I'll have you jailed for this criminal——"
 
Murray stepped between the two men, in an attempt to pacify his brother physician.
 
"One moment, sir," he intervened. "Our friend here is not a printer and has allowed himself to be carried too far through his unfortunate ignorance of the libel laws. As a professional man myself I can realize how you must feel; but if you will allow me to explain the matter——"
 
Murray checked himself. In the blazing black eyes of Scudder he suddenly read a scornful anger that was now directed against himself.
 
"I don't desire any explanation from a man of your character, Doctor Murray," snapped Scudder. "I recognize you; you are the once eminent member of a profession which you disgraced! I have exposed you to Mr. Lee and his daughter in your true colors, as a dope fiend and one who shoul............