"To be sure--one thousand shares of the Blue Bell Mine, of Montana, said to be worth exactly fifty thousand dollars." "Phew! You're flying high, Gaff!" laughed Pat Malone. "And why not, so long as I sell the stocks?" "What did they cost you?" "Well, they didn't cost me fifty thousand dollars," and Gaff Caven closed one eye suggestively. "You bet they didn't! More than likely they didn't cost you fifty dollars." "What, such elegantly engraved stocks as those?" "Pooh! I can buy a bushel-basket full of worthless stocks for a dollar," came from Pat Malone. "But that isn't here nor there. I go into the deal if you give me my fair share of the earnings." "I'll give you one-third, Pat, and that's a fair share, I think." "Why not make it half?" "Because I'll do the most of the work. It's no easy matter to find a victim." And Gaff Caven laughed broadly. He had a good-appearing face, but his eyes were small and not to be trusted. "All right, I'll go in for a third then. But how soon is the excitement to begin?" "Oh, in a week or so. I've got the advertisements in the papers already." "Not in New York?" "No, it's Philadelphia this time. Perhaps I'll land one of our Quaker friends." "Don't be so sure. The Quakers may be slow but they generally know what they are doing." More thunder interrupted the conversation at this point, and when it was resumed the two men talked in such low tones that only an occasional word could be caught by the two boys. "They surely must be rascals," remarked Ned, in a whisper. "I'm half of a mind to have them locked up." "That's easier said than done," answered Joe. "Besides, we haven't any