“Our young Eastern friend has endeared himself to our hearts. I do not exaggerate when I say that we feel quite an avuncular interest in his fortunes. We are deeply hurt by Mr. Bennett’s persistence; but let us not be severe. In this case retribution has been, as we might say, automatic, for the man Jones, by some means, has acquired an inkling of the posture in which our affairs lie in the little matter of the Drake estate; though I believe he suspects only Bennett and myself. Bennett, I judge, has talked too much. And--such is the wickedness and perfidy of the human mind--the man Jones makes a shameless demand on us for two thousand dollars, money current with the merchant, as the price of silence. Alas, that such things can be!” His hands, now deep in his trousers pockets, expressed a lively abhorrence for the perfidy of the man Jones. “This iniquitous demand is no better than blackmail and might be resisted in our courts of justice; but, inasmuch as Mr. Bennett’s sanguinary disposition has brought on us this fresh complication, would it not be well to permit Mr. Bennett to pay this two thousand from his private pocket? I pause for a reply.” Bennett let out a screech between a howl and a shriek. “This is infamous! You’re robbing me! Oh, why did I ever have dealings with such desperadoes?” “Why, indeed?” said Baca tranquilly. “I think, if you will permit me to criticize, that was a mistake in judgment on your part, Mr. Bennett. You have not the temperament for it.” “He pays!” said Scanlon, gloating. “He pays!” echoed the rancher. “You’re robbing me!” Bennett crumpled to a wailing heap. “We’re not, ye black scut!” snapped Scanlon, perking the unfortunate banker upright by the collar. “But we will! We’re now holding to the exact bargain we proposed and you agreed to; but if ever little Mickey S. has need or desire av the red, red gold or the green, green greenback, ’tis back here he will come to you. May Gawd have mercy on your soul! Sit up, ye spineless jellyfish--sit up!” Beck, sitting mute in a cold fury of hate, raised his eyes. “This Neighbor Jones--I had a letter about him to-day. He’s caught on, someway, that we’ve been workin’ him over in the shop; and he’s layin’ for us, I guess. That big lump that called himself the Kansas City Kid--’twas him that wrote the letter. Jones accused him of cheating and drove him out of town--took his gun, made him leave his clothes, and hike. That’s a dangerous man, Baca. Now I think of it, young Drake quit us at the same time. Jones told him our game was crooked, likely.” “Them two was together all this forenoon--I seen ’em,” contributed Quinliven. “Is Jones maybe fixing to give you the double cross?” Baca considered with contracted brow.