CHAPTER XV
THE POWER OF THE CORLISS MILLIONS
IT was a full week later that Steele announced to himself that his vacation was over, and to Turk Wilson and Bill Rice that he had business "outside" and might be away twenty-four hours or ten days. Then, carrying saddle and bridle down into the little meadow, he put his mare into requisition and rode away toward Camp Corliss. Here he stopped for a casual word with Ed Hurley.
"You old son of trouble," was Hurley's greeting, with a look of perplexity in eyes which had never learned the trick of hiding emotions. "What the deuce are you up to these days? I've got fresh orders about you, orders not a week old."
"Shoot," said Steele, easing himself in the saddle. "What's the latest?"
"I'm to look on you as a moral leper or a small pox suspect; I'm to keep you out of camp, I'm to have no word with you and I'm to see that all my men give you the wide go-by. Otherwise I can quit."
"As strong as that, Ed?"
"Curse it, yes," grunted Hurley. "And, between you and me, Bill, I don't want to lose my job. I know that sounds pretty low down from one friend to another but there are reasons why my salary right now looks to me like a raft to a drowning man. If any man can
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