Eden stood up. “I must get back to the ranch. Seen Paula Wendell today?”
“Saw her at breakfast down at the Oasis. She was on the point of starting for the Petticoat Mine.” Holley smiled. “But don’t worry—I’ll take you out to Madden’s.”
“No, you won’t. I’ll hire a car—”
“Forget it. Paper’s off the press now, and I’m at an even looser end than usual. Come along.”
Once more Horace Greeley carried them up the rough road between the hills. As they rattled down to the blazing floor of the desert, the editor yawned.
“I didn’t sleep much last night,” he explained.
“Thinking about Jerry Delaney?” asked the boy.
Holley shook his head. “No—something has happened—something that concerns me alone. That interview with Madden has inspired my old friend in New York to offer me a job there—a mighty good job. Yesterday afternoon I had a doctor in Eldorado look me over and he told me I could go.”
“That’s great!” Eden cried. “I’m mighty happy for your sake.”
An odd look had come into Holley’s eyes. “Yes,” he said, “the prison door swings open, after all these years. I’ve dreamed of this moment, longed for it—and now—”
“What?”
“The prisoner hesitates. He’s frightened at the thought of leaving his nice quiet cell. New York! Not the old New York I knew. Could I tackle it again, and win? I wonder.”
“Nonsense,” Eden answered. “Of course you could.”
A determined look passed over Holley’s face. “I’ll try it,” he said. “I’ll go. Why the devil should I throw my
