They said good-night, and Percival went off to dream that a cab-horse
of mammoth size was threatening to eat Miss Milbrey unless he drove it
to Spokane Falls and bought two million millinery shops.

When he was jolted to consciousness they were in the switching yard at
Butte, and the car was being coupled to the rear of the train made up
for Montana City. He took advantage of the stop to shave. By the time
he was dressed they were under way again, steaming out past the big
smelters that palled the sky with heavy black smoke.

At the breakfast-table he found Uncle Peter and Coplen.

"I'm inclined," said the lawyer, as Percival peeled a peach, "to agree
with your grandfather. This woman--if I may use the term--is one of the
nerviest leg-pullers you're ever likely to strike."

"Lord! I should hope so," said Percival, with hearty emphasis.

"She studied your father and she knew him better than any of us, I
judge. She certainly knew he was liable to go at any time, in exactly
the way he did go. Why, she even had a doctor down from 'Frisco to
Monterey when they were there about a year ago--introduced him as an
old friend and had him stay around three days--just to give her a
private professional opinion on his chances. As to this will, the
signature is undoubtedly genuine, but my judgment is she procured it in
some way on a blank sheet of paper and had the will written above on
sheets like it. As it conforms to the real will word for word,
excepting the bequests to her, she must have had access to that before
having this one written. Of course that helps to make it look as if the