As for Rimrock Jones, he rode by the saloon and went direct to L. W., the banker. It was life or death, as far as the Tecolote was concerned, for his four hundred dollars was gone. That had given him the powder to shoot out his holes to the ten feet required by law, and enough actual cash to pay his Mexican locators and make a legal transfer of the claims; but four hundred dollars will not last a lifetime and Rimrock Jones was broke. He needed more money and he went perforce to the only man who could give it. It would be a fight, for L. W. was stubborn; but Rimrock was stubborn himself. "L. W.," he said, when he found the banker in his private office in the rear, "you used to be white and I want you to listen before you spit out what you've got in your craw. You may have a grievance, and I don't deny it; but remember, I've got one, too. No, it isn't about my mine--I wouldn't sell you one share in it for your whole little jim-crow bank. I've done my first work and I've recorded my claims, and I'll offer them--somewhere's else. All you know is gold and before we go any further, just run your eyes over that." He dumped the contents of his bag on the polished desk and L. W. blinked as he looked. It was picked gold quartz of the richest kind, with jewelry specimens on top, and as L. W. ran his hand through it his tight mouth relaxed from its bulldog grip on the cigar. "Where'd you get it?" he grunted and Rimrock's eyes flashed as he answered shortly: "My mine." "How much more you got?" L. W. asked it suspiciously, but the gold-gleam had gone to his heart. "About two tons of the best, scattered around on the different dumps, and a whole scad more that will ship. I knew you wouldn't lend on anything but gold-ore and I need money to pay off my Mexicans. I've got to save some ore bags to sack that picked rock in, and hire freighters to haul it in. Then there's the freight and the milling and with one thing and another I need about two thousand dollars." "Oh! Two thousand dollars. Seems to me," observed L. W., "I've heard that sum mentioned before." "You have, dad-burn ye, and this time I want it. What's the matter, ain't that ore good for it all?" "It is, if you've got it, but I've come to the point where I don't place absolute confidence in your word." "Oh, the hell you have!" said Rimrock sarcastically, "that sounds like some lawyer talk. You might've learned it from Apex McBain when you was associated with him in a deal. I won't say _what_ deal, but, refreshing your memory now, ain't my word as good as yours?" He gazed intently at the hard-visaged L. W. whose face slowly turned brick red.