“It was a mighty heavy sack, Brick. The team got to fussin’ and I had my hands full with them. When I looked back, he was gone around the turn—and that’s all.” “What did he look like?” asked Brick eagerly. “I dunno. The hole in the muzzle of that rifle was perfectly round—if that’s any description. He knowed how to do it.” “Didn’ yuh get any idea of what he looked like, Soapy? Was he a big man, small man, thin man, or what did he look like?” “He sure was,” nodded Soapy seriously. “I’ll betcha that’ll cover him to a T. He was wearin’ clothes, too.” “And he didn’t talk, eh?” “——, he didn’t need to, Brick. A man with a gun don’t have to tell me what to do. Now, I’ve got to go to the Red Hill and tell Barney to wait another day. Tomorrow is pay-day, too.” “Twenty-seven thousand dollars,” muttered Brick. “That’s a lot of money, Soapy.” “Uh-huh. There’s over two hundred men at that mine, and their wages runs about five dollars a day apiece. Figure it out for yourself. I’m the loser, Brick.” “Soapy, yo’re the best loser I ever seen,” complimented Brick seriously. “No, I ain’t. If I had any sense, I’d get so mad that I’d bite myself. Yessir, I’d just faunch around until I got me a temperature, bust a blood-vessel or a ham-string. But I’m just —— fool enough to set down and make fun of myself.” “Well, why didn’t yuh tell me what yuh was carryin’?” asked Brick. “I’d ’a’ brought the sawed-off shotgun and we’d ’a’ stopped his play.” “Yeah, you’d sure looked fine doin’ a high-dive with a short shotgun in your hands, wouldn’t yuh? Prob’ly shot yourself and me, too.” “Who knew you was goin’ to carry the payroll?” “Not a danged soul. I hope Barney won’t be put out about it. “I suppose I should ’a’ sent it by stage, with half a dozen guards—but I didn’t. No-o-o, I got real smart and tried to take it in for myself, thinkin’ that nobody would think that I had the danged stuff. Too ——ed much thinkin’, tha’sall.” * * * * * It was almost four o’clock when Harp began to get back to normal. Whisky had only made him feel his troubles more keenly. He left Slim arguing with the bartender and started back toward the office. He was not on exactly an even keel and his vision was slightly impaired. As a result he almost ran into Mrs. Wesson, who was coming out of the store, carrying some groceries. “How doo-o-o,” he said thickly. “Hello, Harp,” she smiled. “Did you see Miss Miller?” Harp scratched his head and gawped at her. “Shee Miss Miller? Whaffor?” “Wasn’t you goin’ to ask her to the dance at Silverton?” “Oh!” Harp rubbed his long nose and reflected deeply, with both eyes closed. Then— “But you said she was goin’ with Sam Leach.” “I didn’t say she was goin’ with him, Harp. I said that he asked her to go with him. She told him that she had already been invited.” “By whom had she been invited—by whom?” asked Harp.