A clerk brought the morning mail, and as Alexander Bancroft took the handful of letters, his eye caught the handwriting of Rutherford Jenkins. Apprehension seized him. Had that creature found some new screw he could turn? His hand trembled as he tore open the envelope. For a moment he felt distinct relief when he found nothing more than a demand for additional money. Jenkins reminded him that the first of August was approaching, and added that he was obliged to ask for double the amount he had previously received on the first of the month. The feeling of thankfulness that the letter contained nothing worse passed quickly, as he realized that he would be afraid to refuse the demand, that he would not dare to refuse anything Jenkins might ask. The full weight of his chains was upon him, and he swore between set teeth as he tore the letter angrily into bits and dashed them into the waste-basket. Impotent rebellion was still smouldering in his eyes when a knock came at his door and Dellmey Baxter entered. The Congressman's round, smooth face was beaming and his fat hand grasped Bancroft's with hearty greeting. But the droop of his left eyelid was marked and his gray eyes were cold and hard. They had a prolonged conference about the various enterprises in which they were jointly interested, and about the progress and prospects of Baxter's campaign in the southern part of the Territory, where Bancroft was his chief lieutenant. "I tell you, Aleck, you're handling it fine," said Baxter finally, with friendly enthusiasm. "You're bringing Silverside and the whole south right into line in great shape! I'm free to say, Aleck, that you're doing better for me than I could do for myself. You have a remarkable knack for handling people, and everybody has confidence in you. We've got the party in this Territory where we want it now, and if I decide to quit Congress after another term or two, as it's likely I shall, I'll see to it, Aleck, that you step into my shoes if you want to." He went on to ask what certain of his supporters and his opponents were doing, and presently inquired: "And your young friend Conrad--does he still think I have horns and hoofs? He came to see me in Santa Fe recently, and apologized for having accused me of being at the bottom of that Mexican's attack on him. From what he said to me," the Congressman went on, regarding Bancroft attentively, "I think it's likely the greaser will get the worst of it if he keeps up that racket." The banker moved uneasily, then took cigars from the box on top of his desk. "By the way, Aleck," said Baxter carelessly between whiffs of smoke, "you've been around this Territory considerably and mixed with mining men a good deal." His cold eyes were watching his companion from under their shaggy brows. "Do you remember ever running across a chap named Delafield?"