“You do not,” returned Beck. “In the first place, the men are different. You stepped out of your class when you started to mingle with the likes of us. Why should you bother to rob a perfect stranger anyhow? And you with money corded up! I don’t understand it.” “Bennett!” cried the ranchman, “if I stood in your shoes, before I’d allow any man to use me like we’re using you, I’d go to Drake and give that money up. I’d say: ‘Young fellow, I meant to rob you; but my conscience troubles me, and so do my feet.’ You ain’t got the gall, and you’re too big a hog. I dare you to!” “And in the next place,” continued the complacent gambler, ignoring the interruption, “there’s not one scrap of paper to connect our money with Old Drake. Part of it is ours anyhow, that we’ve made honestly----” “At poker,” corrected Scanlon. “At poker, I should say. But we’ve got your receipts, Mr. Banker. That’s what makes you squirm! And they’re where you can’t get ’em; so it won’t do you any good to get any of us murdered, the way you tried to do that boy.” “He tried it again yesterday,” interposed Baca softly. Quinliven brought his heavy hand crashing down on the table. “You damned coward! I told you to drop that!” His red mustache prickled fiercely; above his eyes the red tufts knotted to bunches. He glanced round at his fellows. “Look here; there’s no damn sense in hurting that kid, the way things stand. If Drake gets killed over this I’m going to see that Bennett swings for it if I have to swing with him--the yellow cur!” The banker shriveled under his look. “Your sentiments do you vast credit,” observed Baca suavely. “I concur most heartily. But, my good fellow, why bawl your remarks?” He accompanied the query with a pleasant smile. Scanlon raised his head to watch. The ranchman’s fingers worked and quivered; for a moment it seemed as though he would leap on his tormentor; but he settled back. “I’m with you,” said Scanlon. Then, noting that Beck did not commit himself to this self-denying ordinance, he filled a glass with wine and, as he drank it, observed his partner narrowly from the tail of his eye. “You may rest easy, Mr. Quinliven,” observed Baca, straddling with his back to the fire and his hands to the blaze. “There will be no need for you to carry out your chivalrous intention. I assure you that while I live I am perfectly capable of selecting a jury that will hang Mr. Bennett without the disastrous concomitant you mention; and I shall take great pleasure in doing so should need arise. I should hate to see you hanged, Quinliven--I should indeed! You distress me! But I fear----” He left the sentence unfinished, shaking his head sorrowfully. “Mr. Bennett, I am sure, will bear himself to conform with our wishes. However, I find myself in full accord with Mr. Bennett in the matter of the moneys now in the hands of Messrs. Beck and Scanlon, and wrongfully withheld from our little pool.”