The Honorable William Moore hurried on. He breathed as one having put forth more strength than was required--breathed as he had breathed when the detachment of Mounted Police rode up to the small trading-post where he had barely succeeded in concealing his smuggled whiskey. He laughed a little, threw his cigar away and put his thumbs firmly together with fingers clasped--a familiar mannerism. "See here, Danvers! This case mustn't go against Burroughs. Bob's a good fellow. He did what any one else would have done. He wasn't looking out for Joe Hall. He did all the head-work, and at the time Joe was satisfied with the price. Of course you know that Bob's going to run for United States Senator next winter. And he's not over popular in Montana; you know how it is, moneyed interest against labor (so the common herd think), and this case has made more talk than everything else put together that Bob ever did." "Well?" Philip's eyes had a gleam that Moore did not care to meet. Perhaps he had been too confidential. He walked about the room, nervously, his right hand grasping the rear of his coat. At last he forced himself to say bluntly: "If you'll go to Judge Latimer and tell him how you feel--that Burroughs is your brother-in-law--that sort of talk, and that if the case goes against Bob, Latimer'll never get re-elected to the supreme bench--oh, you know what to say. Anyway, if you'll do this you'll be twenty-five thousand dollars better off--that's all; and I tell you, you'll need the money before next winter is over if this drouth continues. Your cattle must be in bad shape now. Just tell Latimer how you feel." "How do you know how I feel about this case?" Danvers kept himself well under control, though he felt his blood pounding. "It isn't so much what you feel as what you say." Philip looked at the man. "You haven't got the money, Bill." "Haven't I?" boasted Moore. "Look at this!" He made a quick dive inside his coat. "Three packages of twenty-five thousand each!" He exulted as he displayed the bills. "They were handed to me just before I took the train, and----" "Bill Moore," said the cattleman curiously, "did you think for a moment that I could be purchased?" The Honorable Mr. Moore sparred. "Or Arthur Latimer?" continued Danvers. "What else am I here for?" cried Moore in a rage. "Every man's got his price. Latimer's poor as a church mouse. He's got a wife like a vampire. And as for you--I know cattle raising isn't all profit!" "The trouble with you, Bill," said Danvers, dispassionately, "is that you judge every man by yourself. You can't understand a man like Judge Latimer--the thing would be impossible!" "It's you who are judging by yourself! We all know you're a fanatic--or used to be. I thought perhaps you'd gotten over some of those notions. I know Judge Latimer as well as you do. If we don't get him one way, we'll take another. We're goin' to win!"