As soon after dinner as possible Larkin disengaged himself from the rest of the party and motioned Caldwell to follow him. He led the way around the house and back toward the fence of the corral. It was already dark, and the only sounds were those of the horses stirring restlessly, or the low bellow of one of the ranch milch cows. "What are you doing out here?" demanded Bud. "I came to see you." The other emitted an exasperating chuckle at his own cheap wit. "What do you want?" "You know what I want." This time there was no chuckle, and Bud could imagine the close-set, greedy eyes of the other, one of them slightly crossed, boring into him in the dark. "Money, I suppose, you whining blood-sucker," suggested Bud, his voice quiet, but holding a cold, unpleasant sort of ring that was new to Caldwell. "'The boy guessed right the very first time,'" quoted Smithy, unabashed. "What became of that two thousand I gave you before I left Chicago?" "I got little enough of that," cried Caldwell. "You know how many people there were to be hushed up." "Many!" snapped Larkin. "You can't come any of that on me. There were just three; yourself, your wife, and that red-headed fellow,--I forget his name." "Well, my wife doesn't live with me any more," whined Smithy, "but she makes me support her just the same, and threatens to squeal on you if I don't produce regularly; she knows where the money comes from." Suddenly Larkin stepped close to the other and thrust something long and hard against his ribs. "I'm going to do for you now, Smithy," he said in a cold, even voice. Caldwell did not even move from his position. "If you do," was his reply, "the woman will give the whole thing to the newspapers. They have smelled a rat so long they would pay well for a tip. She has all the documents. So if you want to swing and ruin everybody concerned, just pull that trigger." "I knew you were lying." Bud stepped back and thrust his revolver into the holster. "You are still living with your wife, for she wouldn't have the documents if you weren't. A man rarely lies when he is within two seconds of death. You are up to your old tricks, Smithy, and they have never fooled me yet. Now, let's get down to business. How much do you want?" "Two thousand dollars." "I haven't got it. You don't know it, perhaps, but my money is on the hoof out in this country, and cash is very little used. Look here. You bring your wife and that red-headed chap out to Arizona or California and I will set you up in the sheep business. I've got herds coming north now, but I'll turn a thousand back in your name, and by the time you arrive they will be on the southern range. What do you say?" "I say no," replied the other in an ugly voice. "I want money, and I'm going to have it. Good old Chi is range enough for me." "Well, I can't give you two thousand because I haven't got it." "What have you got?" "Five hundred dollars, the pay of my herders."