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There met, in the city of Washington, one summer's night, three men whose names and fortunes stood behind the P.R.N. Land Company; to wit, Prague, Randall, and Noonan. The crystal chandelier sent down its refracted light upon the table by which they sat and across the centre of which was spread a map of the territory of Dakota. Description of these three is unnecessary; indeed, they would not have wanted to be described. For, in spite of the evident luxury of the quarters, the whisky glasses, and the tapering cigars they had ventured the sodden heat of the capital city on business of considerable import and great privacy. None of these three gentlemen had any illusions to speak of, for they dealt in a traffic that demanded quite questionable practices. And this very night they were about to consummate something just a little more questionable than that which had gone before. At this precise moment, while awaiting a caller with a distinguished title, they were casting over the ground to be covered. And like the amiable gentlemen that they were, no overt word, no incriminating phrase sullied the staid dignity of their presence.

It was Prague, the florid and substantial and jovial Prague, who did most of the talking. And it was he whose index finger traced an imaginary boundary across a strip of western Dakota.

"You see it, I trust. Dammee, you can see it? Look at all that land—and here we have been overlooking the greatest of our opportunities. It is the venture of a lifetime."

"Entirely legitimate," chimed in Mr. Randall.

"Oh, entirely—entirely," corroborated Prague with considerable haste. "At the same time, caution must be observed. You understand how these things are."

They quite understood. Prague nipped the end from another cigar and chewed it with the relish that is born of expensive luxuries. "And it is for that reason, gentlemen, I have made contact with a—ah—er certain person who can materially aid us."

"Legitimately," quoth Randall.

"Indeed," said Prague. "There must be no smell or taint of illegality about the affair. You know how those things are. And this—er—person is in a position to render us that particular service which is utterly essential to the venture."

"Ah," was Mr. Noonan's contribution.

"Then," went on Prague, "we are quite agreed."

And amid the nodded approval the door of the room opened and a gentleman slipped through, taking care to close the portal behind him. At once the three rose to their feet with the courtesy due so illustrious a figure.

It was that gallant tribune, Senator Ignacius I. Invering, whose tones of patriotic devotion had more than once rung passionately through the land. They always rang passionately, these tones, and they were always patriotic. He was a herring- thin man, the colour of a pressed rose petal, and a stogy projected skyward from his lips. The stogy was unlighted, for the Senator had dedicated his health to the service of the nation and therefore nursed it assiduously. He took off his hat, bowed with a ceremonial politeness to the assembled three, and amid a scraping of chair legs and a muttered, "Pleased, Senator," "An honour from such a distinguished gentleman, Senator," the ice was broken and the Bourbon gleamed against the light of the chandelier and vanished on its appointed mission. Senator Ignacius I. Invering stood, as if poised to flee, while the others took their seats. One chary eye skittered across the outspread map and immediately forsook it, quite as if contaminating influence rested there. Then, in a dry wisp of a voice he said, "Now, gentlemen."

Prague rose, fingering some papers before him. "You understand, sir, the nature of our company. That has been explained to you. Needless to enlarge upon it. All we wanted to accomplish at this meeting was to present to you formally your share of stock in the P.R.N. Land Company—as per previous agreement."

"Quite so," said the Senator, fiddling with his finger tips.

"Now, it so happens that we are about to declare a dividend. Quite a happy occasion for us, I'm sure. And we are more than pleased to announce that the dividend on your number of shares will amount to—ah—ten thousand dollars."

"Profitable investment," murmured the Senator.

"Yes. The dividend will be dispatched to you at your office in the morning."

"In cash," specified the Senator. "You understand. Not that there is any unscrupulous angle to this. Not at all, sir. But I have many enemies who would try to trump up a scandal if they could. A mastiff always has the lesser dogs baying at his heels."

Prague agreed that this was true and unfortunate, but that those fearless of duty and pure of spirit had to endure mud slinging. Then he paused a moment, glanced at his associates, and went on.

"Now, being a partner of our enterprise, so to speak?"

"A silent partner and quite unadvertised," broke in the Senator.

"Just so. Being a partner, there are certain affairs in which you can—ah—er—guide us."

"Precedent for it," said the Senator. "Precedent dating to the very foundation rock of our union, sir. Quite within a public official's right to have business interests on the side. Were it not so, I could hardly serve the nation. Proceed."

"Senator," proceeded Prague with emotion, "you see eye to eye with us. Now, our business has been the raising and disposing of cattle to the government for their Indians, in which business you have so kindly assisted us in the past. But lately we have conceived an enterprise which will be profitable to us and, we trust, of signal service to our country."

"Entirely legitimate," murmured Randall piously.

"What we have in mind is this," said Prague, pointing to the map. "Our holdings abut on the sides of a reservation. Now, as time goes on, it seems probable the government will need more lands in that reservation. Therefore, as a public service, we are willing to sell our holdings to the government at a fair and decent profit for that purpose. We are also acquiring other near- by lands in order that small ranchers and settlers will not rob the government when it wants to acquire additional land. You understand, sir, we are actuated by business considerations, but with a thread of altruism also involved. But, being unsurveyed land, title cannot be acquired to it in the—ah—ordinary way. It would take, say, an act of congress to give us this title."

Silence. The Senator pursed his lips and twiddled his fingers. The care of a nation rested heavily upon his frail shoulders. Heavily but securely. He nodded once—twice. "A bill attached as a rider to some appropriation would do the trick. Yes. I shall see about that."

"I have always said the nation underestimated your worth," breathed Prague.

"But," went on the Senator, "you must have possession of the lands you wish title to. Can't evict squatters. Legal, perhaps, but dangerous. Cause a stink—that's the bald word for it. Must be entirely in your possession. Then no attention would be focussed on the rider. The less attention the better."

"I think we can adjudicate the matter of squatters," said Prague. "We shall."

"And then," pursued the Senator, "when you have title, I can perhaps speed up the government's desire to appropriate your lands for Indian reservation use. That will be another bill, later."

There it was, pat and perfect. And since perfection cannot be improved upon, the four of them drank silently and in comfortable understanding. The Senator retrieved his hat, the three partners scrambled to their feet. At the door the Senator swung. "Remember, you must settle with any squatters on that territory you wish. See that you are alone in possession. Then send me the boundary lines and I shall incorporate it into a rider."

Three studious bows. The Senator had one more word. "Caution, gentlemen. There are those who would tear me limb from limb. Ravenous beasts, sir. All this is legitimate, legal. But a reformer will torture the truth to any length. I detest reformers."

And though he named no names, each of the other three silently thought of Senator William Costaine, whose beagle nose scented fraud and corruption at a tremendous distance—especially if that fraud and corruption were in the opposite party.

The Senator whisked himself out of the chamber; the three gentlemen drank with that mellow spirit that comes of deeds well done. And then Randall drew paper and ink to him and began to write in a copper-plate hand those directions which Barron Grist, the resident foreman of the P.R.N., was later to receive, while about him hovered Prague, adding fodder to those directions from time to time. "Be sure to make it plain enough that he must settle with any squatters now on the land we want. Remove 'em. Make it plain."

"Plain, but legal," agreed Randall. "He will understand."