Opening the door of the room he used as an office, he saw a medium-sized man of fifty sitting in a big desk chair, smoking a cigar.
The man smiled at Dale's surprise, but did not offer to get up, merely extending his right hand, which Dale grasped and shook heartily.
"Dave Silverthorn, or I'm a ghost!" ejaculated Dale, grinning.

"How in thunder did you get here ?" "Rode," smiled the other, showing a set of white, flashing teeth.

"I saw you pass the window.

You looked rather glum, and couldn't see my horse, I suppose.

Something gone wrong ?" "Everything," grunted Dale; "that confounded young Bransford has showed up!" The smile left the other's face.