“Why not?” demanded Gallup. “We’re done with him. I want to see just how damn dead he is, though. Come on, Madeiras; you can’t afford to break with me.” Tony laughed softly to himself. When Kent started downhill with Molly the Basque motioned to Gallup, and they set off, too. Tony’s heart was heavy. He had overplayed his hand. The long Nevada twilight was almost over by the time the two men reached the bottom of the little side cañon into which Johnny’s body had shot. “Here’s the place,” Gallup called. “Tons of rock came down. I don’t see him, do you? Look around.” They searched for fifteen minutes—time enough, considering the place—without finding the body. Madeiras was wildly excited over this. “Mebbe those rock cover heem up, eh?” he suggested, white-lipped. “Naw! Wasn’t he ridin’ on top of them?” “_Sí!_ But plenty rock come after him. No blood, no not’ing, here. When the moon come up I deeg in these rock.” “What’s the use? If he’s buried, he’s dead enough. You can stay here if you want to; I’m goin’ back. And I’ll trouble you to return that five hundred. I ain’t payin’ for a dead man unless I see the body.” “Thass so, _señor_?” the Basque inquired unpleasantly. He paused, then: “Thees place plenty beeg enough for two daid man.” He tossed his rifle in back of him, and with hands resting upon his hips, he faced Gallup. Aaron felt a shiver pass through his body. The size of those hands froze his blood. He fancied he could feel them at his throat—tearing, strangling, forcing the breath from his old carcass. Gallup’s cunning did not fail him. He knew that the present was the time for quick thinking and smooth talking. “Why are you so down on me?” he asked, apparently going off at a tangent. “You ask that, _señor_?” Madeiras’ teeth showed white and even in the half light. “That mortgage, eh? We can adjust that. Things can be arranged. Tobias oversteps himself now and then. But give me a little time; I’ll fix that up. And now about the five hundred—you keep it. You’ll be goin’ away, and you’ll be needin’ money.” Aaron rubbed his hands. “Yes,” he repeated, “you keep that money, Tony.” “No, _señor_,” Tony said lightly. “You have made leetla mistak’. You tak’ those money back. But you owe me somet’ing, of course. I keep _thees_.” Madeiras had been running his fingers through the contents of Gallup’s purse and now held out for Aaron’s inspection the little gold snake Crosbie Traynor had worn on his hat band. Gallup shrank back, his jaws working nervously. The next second he was reaching for the little charm. “No, _señor_,” Tony warned. “I keep eet.” “I didn’t know it was in there,” Gallup shrieked. “It’s mine! What in hell do you want with it?” “Thass fonny t’ing why I want heem, _señor_. But since first time I see those leetla snake I t’ink mebbe I lak’ to wear heem on my hat ban’ some time.” “What’re you talkin’ about? I’ve owned that luck piece these forty years. Who’d you ever see wearin’ it?” Tony grinned again.