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prove of this. So Chris Walters had secured the key to the car barn from Jane and the "club" had assembled as usual. But all felt that something vital was missing, and that something was the genial Pop.

They had watched sympathetically for years Pop's struggle to hold his property, which was apparently decreasing in value every month. They appreciated his reason for hanging on to it—the possible coming of a day when he would be offered a large sum of money to sell it to one of the electric traction companies. Speedy knew that they would bitterly resent any attempt to take it away from him by underhanded methods. He was confident they would join him in fighting the invaders.

He waited until Sandy Gordon had won the next hand. Then he stepped up beside Chris Walters at the head of the table. All of the venerable heads turned in his direction as they realized from his flushed and earnest appearance that he had something important to say to them. They knew Speedy. They liked him and on many occasions had lamented his inability to find himself and get along in the world.

"I guess you men know why Pop Dillon isn't here tonight," said Speedy. "He was beat up by a thug yesterday and a fake doctor sent him away to a sanitarium in Connecticut. Yes, a fake doctor! Never mind how I know that; you'll have to take my word for it for the time being. But Pop won't be away long. I've sent him a wire to hurry back home as quick as he can and he'll be here tomorrow,