Hummel, with a low exclamation of relief and joy, seized it, knocked off the head, and snatching up a dirty tumbler, filled it from the bottle and drained the last drop. Then he set bottle and glass down beside him with a sigh of satisfaction. “That’s better,” he said. “You ain’t been treatin’ me right, Rafe. You oughtn’t to let me run out.” “Run out!” Bassett repeated. “Good Lord! I’ll have to start a distillery t’ keep you from runnin’ out! I never see a man who could swill whiskey like you kin—a gallon a day ain’t nothin’! Why, you’re a reg’lar tank, with no bottom, at that!” Hummel glared at him evilly, then poured out another glass full of the liquor and swallowed it. “What’s that to you?” he demanded. “You know what the bargain was—an’ I’m ready to do my part whenever you say the word.” “An’ I’m ready t’ do mine,” declared Bassett, and drew the other bottle from his pocket and set it on the ground. “Is that enough fer to-night?” “Yes, I guess so,” said Hummel, sullenly. “But I’m gittin’ tired of settin’ here in this hogpen, drinkin’ myself t’ death. I’ve got some little spark of decency left in me, though you mayn’t think it. Why don’t we do something?” “We’ll do something to-night!” said Bassett, with sudden fury. “Where’s the gang?” “They’ve weakened,” said Hummel, glancing sullenly at the other. “Since them fellers were crimped at Cincinnati fer that stock-yards business, they won’t do nothin’.” “They won’t, hey?” cried Bassett. “Then they don’t git no pay. They’ve got all o’ my money they’re goin’ t’ git!” “They know that!” sneered Hummel. “It wasn’t so awful much, anyway. They skipped out to-night.” “Skipped out?” “Yes—caught a freight back to Cinci.” Bassett pondered this a moment, with knitted brows. “All right,” he said, at last. “We don’t need ’em. But I didn’t think any friends o’ yourn would be so white-livered.” “They ain’t white-livered, but they don’t like t’ git the double cross.” “Who give ’em the double cross?” demanded Bassett, threateningly. “Do you mean me?” “Well,” replied Hummel, avoiding his eye, “I ain’t namin’ no names. But somebody peached on them stock-yards fellers.” “It wasn’t me. Why, just because I stood up fer ’em t’-night, I got fired out o’ the brotherhood by that smooth snake of a Simpson.” “Got fired out, did you?” queried Hummel, his eyes lighting with an evil glint of satisfaction. “Then the jig’s up?” “No, it ain’t up—not by a good deal. Rafe Bassett has got a lot o’ fight in him yet. But first I’m goin’ t’ git even. Is everything ready?” “Yes—been ready fer three days.” “Kin we two carry it?” “I kin carry it myself. It ain’t heavy.” “An’ you’re sure it’ll work?” “I made it—an’ it ain’t the first I’ve made by a blame sight.” “All right,” said Bassett, looking at his companion with something like respect. “Come on, then,” and he rose and buttoned his coat.