“No, sir. I ain’t aimin’ for no such thing. But we don’t like the way things are shaping. What does all this here funny business mean, anyhow?” His thumb jerked toward Collins, already mounted and waiting for Leroy to join him. “Two days ago this world wasn’t big enough to hold him and you. Well, I git the drop on him, and then you begin to cotton up to him right away. Big dinner last night—champagne corks popping, I hear. What I want to know is what it means. And here’s this Miss Mackenzie. She’s good for a big ransom, but I don’t see it ambling our way. It looks darned funny.” “That’s the ticket, York,” derided Leroy. “Come again. Turn your wolf loose.” “Oh! I ain’t afraid to say what I think.” “I see you’re not. You should try stump-speaking, my friend. There’s a field fox you there.” “I’m asking you a question, Mr. Leroy.” “That’s whatever,” chipped in Reilly. “Put a name to it.” “Well, I want to know what’s the game, and where we come in.” “Think you’re getting the double-cross?” asked Leroy pleasantly, his vigilant eyes covering them like a weapon. “Now you’re shouting. That’s what I’d like right well to know. There _he_ sits”—with another thumbjerk at Collins—“and I’m a Chink if he ain’t carryin’ them same two guns I took offen him, one on the train and one here the other day. I ain’t sayin’ it ain’t all right, cap. But what I do say is—how about it?” Leroy did some thinking out loud. “Of course I might tell you boys to go to the devil. That’s my right, because you chose me to run this outfit without any advice from the rest of you. But you’re such infants, I reckon I had better explain. You’re always worrying those fat brains of yours with suspicions. After we stuck up the Limited you couldn’t trust me to take care of the swag. Reilly here had to cook up a fool scheme for us all to hide it blindfold together. I told you straight what would happen, and it did. When Scotty crossed the divide we were in a Jim Dandy of a hole. We had to have that paper of his to find the boodle. Then Hardman gets caught, and coughs up his little recipe for helping to find hidden treasure. Who gets them both? Mr. Sheriff Collins, of course. Then he comes visiting us. Not being a fool, he leaves the documents behind in a safety-deposit vault. Unless I can fix up a deal with him, Mr. Reilly’s wise play buncoes us and himself out of thirty thousand dollars.” “Why don’t you let him send for the papers first?” “Because he won’t do it. Threaten nothing! Collins ain’t that kind of a hairpin. He’d tell us to shoot and be damned.” “So you’ve got it fixed with him?” demanded Neil. “You’ve a head like a sheep, York,” admired Leroy. “_You_ don’t need any brick-wall hints to hit you. As your think-tank has guessed, I have come to an understanding with Collins.” “But the gyurl—I allow the old major would come down with a right smart ransom.”