“Well?” said the Kid impatiently. The contemplative gentleman roused himself. “Someway I don’t like this idea of being cheated pretty well.” His voice was a mild and regretful drawl. “Never had much use for Beck; but I did think old Scanlon was a square old sport!” “Square sport! Why, you poor simp, you never had a look in!” sneered the sharper. Then he wrinkled his brows in some perplexity. “What I don’t see is why they didn’t skin the Eastern chap too. They could ’a’ had that gink’s wad--that Drake; but they let him down easy. Oh, well, we should worry! It will leave all the more for us.” “For us?” echoed Neighbor, puzzled. “Sure, Mike! You get hold of a good piece of money and we’ll do a brother act. You and me, we ain’t never been chummy--they won’t tumble. We’ll sit in with ’em and string along with ’em till the big money gets out in the open--just holding enough cards to keep in the swim. When I give you the office, go get ’em! I’ll slip big ones to Beck and the college Johnny--and the top hand to you, of course--and we’ll split fifty-fifty.” Neighbor’s mind groped back along the dusty years for a half-forgotten adage. “If a dog bites you once,” he said with halting speech, “shame on him; if you bite a dog--shame on you!” “Huh? I don’t get you.” “Besides,” said Neighbor placidly, “you’ll be going away now.” “Not me. Saragossa looks good to me.” “You’ll be going away,” repeated Neighbor patiently, “on the next train--any direction--and never coming back!” “What?” The Kid jumped up, blazing wrath. “Why, you cheap skate--you quitter! Are you goin’ to throw me down? You come-on! You piker----” “Boob?” suggested Neighbor kindly. “Mutt? Sucker?” “You hick! You yellow hound----” “Sit down,” advised Neighbor quietly. “You ought to lose your money! For ten cents----” “Sit down,” said Neighbor more quietly. The pocketed hand produced a dime and slid it across the table. “Go on with that ten-cent job you had on your mind, whatever it was,” said Neighbor. “There’s the money. Pick it up!” Weight and inches, the two men evened up fairly well. Also, the ivory butt of a forty-four peeped from the Kid’s waistband. But Neighbor’s eye was convincing; here was a man who meant the thing he said. The younger man shifted his own eyes uneasily, checked, faltered and sat down. “Pick up your dime!” said Neighbor. The Kid complied with a mumbling in his throat. “That’s right,” said Jones. “Now, don’t you be too proud to take advice from a yellow hound. First, don’t you bother your poor head about me losing my money. My money don’t cost me anything,” he explained--“I work for it. Next, about Beck--I’ll sleep on this matter and look it over from all sides. No hurry. If I’m not just pleased with Beck for cheating me I’ll adjust the matter with him--but I’ll not cheat him. I never try to beat a man at his own game. Toddle along, now. I hear a train coming. By-by!” “It’s the freight. I’ll go on the five-o’clock passenger--not before.”