"Don't worry, Dot. I think they'll find there's enough cows to satisfy every one," Spur Treadwell encouraged her, as he patted her shoulder. "Who is this man who has this call note?" Bill McAllister demanded. "Who do yuh suppose he'd be?" Spur replied, as he looked contemptuously at Miser Jimpson. "'Tain't me, but a client of mine back in Chicago," the old miser squealed. "I'm bettin', like I tol' yuh the other day, that if yuh wrote to him, he would be willin' to wait, but yuh see a way of makin' a few dollars so yuh refuse," growled Spur, towering over the old man. "Can't yuh do that?" Dot pleaded. "No I can't. I tol' this client to lend his money to your dad when he needed it to buy them Crossbar Double A cows, because the security was good then. Now I don't think it good no more, I have to tell him to call his loan." Jimpson spoke with a touch of malice in his voice. "If Miss Reed will supply the necessary men I will arrive at the Double R to-morrow and make an estimate of the number of cattle on her ranch. We'll hope for the best, and if these rumors are false, why, the bank will take up the note held by Mr. Jimpson's client," Raine said. "Of course, yuh can have all the men yuh want," Dot told him. Then she faltered. "And--if--if----Then the bank will foreclose?" It was easy to see that Raine found himself in a difficult and unpleasant position and that he disliked his task. "I'm afraid I will have to advise them to do that," he said. "My client is willing to buy the ranch," Jimpson sputtered. "So that's it, yuh rat!" Bill McAllister growled as he stepped threateningly toward the leering old man. "I have a good mind to sic the twins on yuh," Spur Treadwell said coldly. Dot Reed faced old Miser Jimpson, and he seemed more affected by the scorn in her eyes than by Spur's threat. "An' what will this precious client of yours offer?" she asked coldly. "He will assume all indebtedness an' pay yuh twenty thousand cash." "He's darn generous. The ranch is worth five times that. Yuh can tell this client of yours that Miss Reed refuses his offer," Spur Treadwell cried. "Miss Reed, I hope yuh understand that I am not pressing yuh," One-wing McCann assured her, as she moved toward the door. Out in the street, she turned to Bill McAllister and Spur Treadwell. "I want to thank yuh for the way yuh stood back of me," she murmured. Bill McAllister grumbled an unintelligible reply, cast a searching look at Treadwell, and then walked slowly toward the livery stable to secure the team and buckboard. He racked his brains, but could not discover the negro in the woodpile. Nor could he in any way decide how Spur was concerned or responsible in the remotest way for the present situation.