The President of the First National lounged in his chair half an hour longer, and then he lit a mild cigar, and went over to Tom Merwin’s house. Merwin, a ranchman in brown duck, with a contemplative eye, sat with his feet upon a table, plaiting a rawhide quirt. “Tom,” said Longley, leaning against the table, “you heard anything from Ed yet?” “Not yet,” said Merwin, continuing his plaiting. “I guess Ed’ll be along back now in a few days.” “There was a bank examiner,” said Longley, “nosing around our place to-day, and he bucked a sight about that note of yours. You know I know it’s all right, but the thing _is_ against the banking laws. I was pretty sure you’d have paid it off before the bank was examined again, but the son-of-a-gun slipped in on us, Tom. Now, I’m short of cash myself just now, or I’d let you have the money to take it up with. I’ve got till twelve o’clock to-morrow, and then I’ve got to show the cash in place of that note or—” “Or what, Bill?” asked Merwin, as Longley hesitated. “Well, I suppose it means be jumped on with both of Uncle Sam’s feet.” “I’ll try to raise the money for you on time,” said Merwin, interested in his plaiting. “All right, Tom,” concluded Longley, as he turned toward the door; “I knew you would if you could.” Merwin threw down his whip and went to the only other bank in town, a private one, run by Cooper & Craig. “Cooper,” he said, to the partner by that name, “I’ve got to have $10,000 to-day or to-morrow. I’ve got a house and lot there that’s worth about $6,000 and that’s all the actual collateral. But I’ve got a cattle deal on that’s sure to bring me in more than that much profit within a few days.” Cooper began to cough. “Now, for God’s sake don’t say no,” said Merwin. “I owe that much money on a call loan. It’s been called, and the man that called it is a man I’ve laid on the same blanket with in cow-camps and ranger-camps for ten years. He can call anything I’ve got. He can call the blood out of my veins and it’ll come. He’s got to have the money. He’s in a devil of a—Well, he needs the money, and I’ve got to get it for him. You know my word’s good, Cooper.” “No doubt of it,” assented Cooper, urbanely, “but I’ve a partner, you know. I’m not free in making loans. And even if you had the best security in your hands, Merwin, we couldn’t accommodate you in less than a week. We’re just making a shipment of $15,000 to Myer Brothers in Rockdell, to buy cotton with. It goes down on the narrow-gauge to-night. That leaves our cash quite short at present. Sorry we can’t arrange it for you.” Merwin went back to his little bare office and plaited at his quirt again. About four o’clock in the afternoon he went to the First National Bank and leaned over the railing of Longley’s desk. “I’ll try to get that money for you to-night—I mean to-morrow, Bill.” “All right, Tom,” said Longley quietly.