“The storm was so bad. I thought it might let up after a while,” said Bennett miserably. “Don’t make that an excuse,” said Beck with a cold sneer. “You might have slipped over to our place, a short block; or you could have had us meet you at your own office.” “Gentlemen! Gentlemen!” expostulated Baca, with a curling lip. “You do not understand. Mr. Bennett has his position to think of. Mr. Bennett is highly respectable. He could not let it be known that he had traffic with professional gamblers like Mr. Beck and the estimable Scanlon.” He bowed ironically; the estimable Scanlon rolled a slow, wicked little eye, and Baca’s cheek twitched as he went on: “I say nothing, as you observe, of myself or of our worthy friend Quinliven, who, as I perceive, is in a very bad temper.” Quinliven glowered at the speaker like a baited bull. He was a huge, burly man with a shaggy, brindled head, a bull neck, a russet face knotted with hard red lumps, and small, fiery, amber-colored eyes under a thick tangle of bushy brows. The veins swelled in his neck as he answered. “Well, he’ll have some traffic with me, and do it quick! Here I’ve talked young Drake into selling out and going home; I’m giving him twenty-five hundred dollars too much, standin’ the loss out of my share--and me not getting a full share at all! All I get is the cattle, while the rest of you pull down nearly twelve thousand apiece, net cash. That part is all right though. That’s my own proposition. I don’t begrudge the little extra money to the boy, and I want him to get away from here for his own sake as well as for mine. This crawling, slimy Bennett thing is bound to have that boy killed.” He glared at the steaming banker by the fire. “I don’t see how that man got by with it so long. He wouldn’t last long on the range. And now, after I’ve made the trade, Bennett hems and haws, and hangs fire about giving up the money.” “You don’t understand,” protested the wretched banker. “You’ll get your share; but it would inconvenience me dreadfully to take that amount of money immediately from a little private bank like mine. In ninety days, or even sixty, I can so adjust my affairs as to settle with all of you.” “My heart bleeds for you,” said Beck sympathetically. “For I’m going to inconvenience you a heap more. You’ll adjust your affairs in less than ninety hours, or even sixty. I’ve been fooled with long enough. That pass book calls for a little over forty-six thousand dollars. We expected to get half. Instead we’ve got to split it four ways. Young Drake is going and I want my split right now.” “What about me?” cried the banker in wild and desperate indignation. “What do I get? Barely a fourth! And you two have Drake’s money already--heaven knows how much!” “Heaven don’t,” said Beck. “But do I get any of that?” shouted the outraged banker.