“Coming right down to brass tacks, Jim Harding, I don’t see why I want to monkey with your end of the game, anyhow,” said the cat’s-paw. “All I need is to get even with him for knocking me out, and I can do that the first time I get the drop on him, ’thout mixin’ up any in your deal.” “Yes, and you can get yourself choked with a rope for doing it,” added Harding. “Now, on the other hand, if my scheme works--and it will work if you will do your part--the sheriff will do the evening-up business for you, and you can sit back and read all about it in the newspapers the next morning.” “Yes, ‘if’; but that there ‘if’ is bigger than Pike’s Peak. You seem to think if you can get hold o’ them dockyments he’s got, you can change a few words in ’em and make out that Plucky George is the man they want--chuck him plumb into your shoes. Maybe you can; but there’s a heap o’ holes in a skimmer. Seems like you’ve lived long enough to know that.” “That is all right; I know what I am doing,” was the confident assertion. “As it stands now, it is between me and Brant. It was an all-around free fight, and he was mixed up in it, too. Once let me get hold of those papers, and he will have his hands full to prove that _he_ didn’t kill Hank Brinton.” “I don’t savez it that way; but that part of it is your funeral--not mine. What is it you want me to do? Measure it off.” “You know; I want you to get the papers.” “Why don’t you do it yourself?” “It’s out of my line. I don’t happen to have been over the road for house-breaking--as you have--and I am not up in that branch of the business.” Gasset scowled and gritted out an oath at this, but finally asked, “Well--when?” “The quicker, the sooner; the first night we can be sure he isn’t in his room.” “Reckon he keeps the papers in his room?” “Surely. Where else would they be?” “I don’t know. But it appears like if it was me, I’d lock ’em up somewheres where they’d be safe.” “He might, if he thought anybody was trying to lift them. But he doesn’t suspect anything of the kind. He doesn’t even know I’m in Denver.” “All right; it’s a go. I’ll swipe the papers for you if I can find ’em, and after that you fork over, and we’re quits. I tell you right now, though, I’d a heap rather play it alone.” “Do what you please after you get the papers. When you hand them over to me, it’s a cool hundred in your clothes. After that, if you would rather take the chance of dancing on nothing instead of letting him do it, why, go ahead. You may kill him and welcome, so far as I am concerned.” “Oh, yes; you’re all right. You’ve got everything to gain, and nothing much to lose, as near as I can make out. But let her go. Better try it to-night?” “One time is as good as another, if he will stay out late enough to give you a chance.” “Enough said. Let’s go and have a drink on it.”