sale," added Average Jones calmly.

"People don't buy water in this country."

"You're not people," returned Average Jones cheerfully. "You're a
corporation; a soulless corporation. The North Pinto Gold Mining
Company."

"What's that!" cried the colonel thickly.

His hand flew back to his belt. Then it dropped, limp at his side, for
he was gazing into the two barrels of a shotgun, which, materializing
over a rock, were pointing accurately and disconcertingly at the pit of
his stomach. From behind the gun Captain Funcke's quiet voice remarked:

"I wouldn't, Colonel. As for you," he added, turning to the other
wayfarer, who carried a rifle, "you want to remember that a shotgun has
two barrels, usually both loaded."

Stepping forward, Average Jones "lifted" the financier's weapon. Then
he deprived Fred of his rifle amid a surprisingly brilliant outburst of
verbal pyrotechnics.

"Now we can talk business comfortably," he observed.

"I can't talk at all pretty quick if I don't git a moistener," said Fred
piteously.

Pouring out a scant cupful of water into his hat, Average Jones handed
it over. "Drink slowly," he advised. "You've got about a hundred
dollars' worth there at present quotations."

Colonel Richford's head went up with a jerk.

"Hundred dollars' worth!" he croaked, his eyes fiery with suspicion.
"Are you going to hold up two men dying of thirst?"

"There's been only one man in danger of that death around here. His name
is Hoff."

The redoubtable colonel gasped, and leaned back against a rock.

"You'll be relieved to learn that he's safe. Now, to answer your
question: No, I don't propose to hold up two men for anything. I propose
to deal with the president and treasurer of the North Pinto Gold Mining
Company. As a practical mining man you will appreciate the absolute
necessity of water in your operations. The nearest available supply is
some ten hours distant. Before you could reach it I fear that--er--your
company would--er--have gone out of existence. Therefore I am fortunate
in being able to offer you a small supply which I will put on the market
at the low rate of ten thousand dollars. I may add that--er--certified
checks will--er--be accepted."

For two hours the colonel, with the occasional objurgatory assistance
of his partner, talked, begged argued, threatened, and even wept. By the
end of that time his tongue was making sounds like a muffled castanet,
and his resolution was scorched ou