neither," went on the old miner, vigorously. And then he sat down to breakfast with the boys, telling them much about Butte, and the mining country around it, and about what dealings he had had with Roger's uncle.
"A square man he was," he said. "And a great pity the way he dropped off and had his mine lost by a landslide."
The meal over, the three boys lost no time in walking over to the other side of the city, where Abe Blower lived. They found the front windows of the house open and an elderly woman was sweeping off the front stoop with a broom.
"Good-morning," said Roger, politely. "Is this Mrs. Carmody?"
"Yes, I'm Mrs. Carmody," was the reply, and the old lady looked questioningly into Roger's face. "I don't seem to remember you," she went on.
"We never met before, Mrs. Carmody," answered Roger, and introduced himself and his chums. "I came to see Mr. Abe Blower."
The woman looked quite bewildered, so much so that the boys were astonished. She dropped her broom.
"Did you say you was Roger Morr?" she gasped, looking at the senator's son.
"Yes."
