"Oh, I don't know," he said. "I ain't never seen no one could juggle a six-gun like they say these birds could do, but I reckon there's some truth in it. Leastways, there are some that can shoot pretty good." He, too, leaned back, with an air of self-satisfaction. Banker chuckled again. "You're both good ones," he said. "This gent can shoot some, ma'am. He comes from Arkansas. But I ain't a-worryin' none about that. Old Jim's luck's still holdin' good. I found this here mine, now, although you wouldn't tell me where it was. Didn't I?" "I suppose so," said Solange indifferently. "I do not care about the mine, monsieur. It is yours. But there is something that I wish and--I have money----" The instant light of greed that answered this announcement convinced her that she had struck the right note. If the mine had been as rich as Golconda these men would have coveted additional money. "You got money, ma'am?" Banker spoke whiningly. "Money to pay for your service. You are brave men; men who would help a woman, I feel sure. You, Monsieur Banker, knew my father and would help his daughter--if she paid you." The irony escaped him. "I sure would," he answered, eagerly. "What's it you want, ma'am, and what you goin' to pay fer it?" She spoke quite calmly, almost casually. "I want you to kill a man," she answered. The three of them stared at her and then the big bruiser laughed. "Who d'you want scragged?" he said, derisively. Solange looked steadily at Banker. "Louisiana!" she answered, clearly. But old Jim turned pale and showed his rat's teeth. The others merely chuckled and nudged each other. Solange sensed that two considered her request merely a wild joke while the other was afraid. She slowly drew from her bag the yellow poster that De Launay had sent back to her by Sucatash. "You would be within the law," she pleaded, spreading it out before them. As they bent over it, reading it slowly: "See. He is a fugitive with a price on his head. Any one may slay him and collect a reward. It is a good deed to shoot him down." "Five hundred dollars looks good," said the lean man from Arkansas, "but it ain't hardly enough to set me gunnin' for a feller I don't know. Is this a pretty bad actor?" "Bad?" screamed Banker, suddenly. "Bad! I've seen him keep a chip in the air fer two or three seconds shootin' under it with a six-shooter! I've seen him roll a bottle along the ground as if you was a-kickin' it, shootin' between it and the ground and never chippin' the glass. Bad! You ask Snake Murphy if he's bad. Snake was drunk an' starts a fuss with him an' his hand was still on his gun butt an' the gun in the holster when Louisiana shoots him in the wrist an' never looks at him while he's a-doin' it! Bad! I'll say he's bad!" He was shivering and almost sick in his sudden fright at the idea of facing Louisiana. The others, however, were skeptical and contemptuous.