Deadoak, however, hastened to avoid any trouble by apprising Sandy of the reason which he avowed had caused his visit. "And now," he added, screwing up his leathery countenance into sanctimonious lines, "I stand ready to do the right thing, gents. I'm offerin', this bein' on behalf o' me and Piute together, what ye paid for the prop'ty and five hundred to boot." "What about your mortgage?" queried Sandy shrewdly. "Include that in the takin' back if ye like. All I want is to do the right thing." "All right," said Sandy. "Murray, let me speak with ye to one side." Deadoak sat down and rolled a cigarette. Taking Murray's arm, Sandy mopped his face and walked out of earshot, then he paused. As he met Murray's puzzled gaze, an earnest look crept into his heavy features. "Ye'll leave this matter to me?" he queried. "In other words, will you be willing to let me gamble for the good o' the firm?" Murray smiled quizzically. "Go as far as you like, Sandy! I'll back your play." "And if we go broke on it, no hard feelings?" Murray laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't be a fool! We're men and not children. Play your own game!" Sandy looked vastly relieved, then strode back to Deadoak. "Well, now, your proposition is good," he said cordially, even genially. "I'm proud to meet a man like you, Deadoak Stevens! We thought you and Mr. Tomkins had trimmed us, and were inclined to be sore about it--now that we've found the mistake, we apologize." "Then you take me up?" queried Deadoak eagerly. "No." "Wh--what! Ye said no?" "Of course!" returned Sandy warmly, taking no heed of the thunderstruck look which had clouded Deadoak's staggered features. "Would we take advantage of ye that way? Not us! We're not that sort! We don't whine, Deadoak; we're not kids. We'll keep what we got, and make the best of it!" Deadoak's countenance was a study in futility. "You--d'ye mean----" he choked, then continued feebly. "Have ye found somethin'?" "Maybe, we have!" Sandy beamed upon him. "Just between ourselves, friend, I'll tell ye that we have. So--ye see?" His wink was significant. "I see," agreed Deadoak mournfully. "'Twill make ye rejoice, no doubt," pursued Sandy, "to know that our luck was good. We appreciate your disinterested----" "'Senough!" blurted Deadoak, turning. "I'll be weavin' back, I guess. So long." "Won't ye wait till mornin', anyhow?" queried Sandy with concern. "Nope, thanks." Dejectedly, hopelessly, Deadoak stumbled to his cayuse, pulled himself aboard, waved a limp hand, and rode down the valley. He was slumped in the saddle like a man who sees no hope in the future. "He's mighty cheerful over something," said Murray drily, and chuckled. "Cheerful?" "Well, Sandy, suppose you elucidate? Why did you turn him down?" Sandy faced his friend and made a wide gesture.