This time it was no jaded single horse and dust-stained buggy, but a double team of four spirited trotters, whose coats were scarcely turned with foam, before a light station wagon containing a single man.

But that man was instantly recognized by every one of the outside loungers and stable-boys as well as the staring crowd within the saloon.

It was James Stacy, the millionaire and banker.

No one but himself knew that he had covered half the distance of a night-long ride from Boomville in two hours.

But before they could voice their astonishment Stacy had thrown a letter to the obsequious landlord, and then gathering up the reins had sped away to the railroad station half a mile distant.
"Looks as if the Boss of Creation was in a hurry," said one of the eager gazers in the doorway.