“That will be a-plenty,” said Beck. “For fear of mistakes I will now declare myself. We admit that we have a bundle of the Drake money and we announce that we are going to keep it. How much, is nobody’s business but our own. In consideration of that fact, however, the two of us lay claim to only one full share of the Drake deposit. That gives us twelve thousand; Bennett as much; the Honorable Prosecuting Attorney the same; the Double Dee brand to Quinliven. That’s final!” “I suppose you know, Mr. Beck,” said Baca, cupping his chin, “your little joint can be closed any time I lift a finger?” “Baca,” said Scanlon with level eyes, “you’ll close nawthin’! We bought protection from you. We’ll get what we bought. When you feel any doubts comin’ on, don’t talk to Beck about it. Talk to me! And,” he added with venomous intensity, “one more word about any divvy on our poker roll and that pass book goes to Ducky Drake!” He tapped his breast. “I’ve got the pass book--not Beck.” “Well, well,” said Baca indulgently, “have your own way. Far be it from me to question any gentleman’s ultimatum, and so, perhaps, bring a discordant note into our charming evening. Let us pass on to the next subject. Is everybody happy? No! Mr. Bennett is not happy. Mr. Bennett is a very able man, as we all know--exemplar to the young--a rich man, merchant prince, and all that. And yet we can quite understand that he may be temporarily embarrassed for actual cash. I, for one, am willing to allow him a reasonable time. He cannot hide his real estate; so we shall be taking no risks. Doubtless we can stand off young Drake for the price of his cattle by giving him good security.” The silent Scanlon leaped up and snarled in unimaginable ferocity. “If there’s any more shilly-shally there’ll be a Standing Room Only sign on the gates of hell and the devil sending out a hurry-up call for the police!” His voice swelled in breathless crescendo. “I’m sick of you--the whole pack and pilin’! I want to get so far away from here it’ll take nine dollars to send me a postcard; so far east they’ll give me change for a cent; so far north the sun don’t go down till after dark.” His eyes were ablaze with blistering scorn. “Gawd! Look at yourselves! Quinliven--the honorable, high-minded, grave-robbing pardner----” “Here!” bellowed Quinliven savagely. “I came through with the cattle, straight as a die! That’s as far as I was any pardner of Drake’s. You don’t know how that man treated me! It wasn’t only me doing all the work--but his cold, sneering, overbearing----” “Shut up, you polled Angus bull!” yelled Scanlon with a howl of joyous truculence. “And Bennett--faugh! P-t-t-h!” Scanlon spat in the fire, and wheeled on the other gambler. Beck’s face was black with concentrated hate. The little man pointed a taunting finger.