his position uneasily. But there was a cunning look on
his face as he retorted swiftly,--

"You're a'mighty hasty to lay your hands on his reckoning. How's it that
you're ready to part two thou' for 'em?"

There was a moment's silence as the two men eyed each other. It seemed
as if each were endeavoring to fathom the other's thoughts. Then the
money-lender spoke, and his voice conveyed a concentration of hate that
bit upon the air with an incisiveness which startled his companion.

"Because I intend to crush him as I would a rattlesnake. Because I wish
to ruin him so that he will be left in my debt. So that I can hound him
from this place by holding that debt over his head. It is worth two
thousand to me to possess that power. Now, will you part?"

This explanation appealed to the worst side of the Mexican's nature.
This hatred was after his own heart. Lablache was aware that such would
be the case. That is why he made it. He was accustomed to play upon the
feelings of people with whom he dealt--as well as their pocket. Pedro
Mancha grinned complacently. He thought he understood his employer.

"Hand over the bills. Guess I'll part. The price is slim, but it's not a
bad deal."

Lablache oozed over to the safe. He opened it, keeping one heavy eye
upon his companion. He took no chances--he trusted no one, especially
Pedro Mancha. Presently he returned with a roll of notes. It contained
the exact amount. The Mexican watched him hungrily as he counted out the
green-backed bills. His lips moistened beneath his mustache--his eyes
looked wilder than ever. Lablache understood his customer thoroughly. A
loaded revolver was in his own coat pocket. It is probable that the
brown-faced desperado knew this.

At last the money-lender held out the money. He held out both hands, one
to give and the other to receive. Pedro passed him the I.O.U.'s and took
the bills. One swift glance assured Lablache that the coveted papers
were all there. Then he pointed to the door.

"Our transaction is over. Go!"

He had had enough of his companion. He had no hesitation in thus
peremptorily dismissing him.

"You're in a pesky hurry to get rid of me. See hyar, pard, you'd best be
civil. Your dealin's ain't a sight cleaner than mine."

"I'm waiting." Lablache's tone was coldly commanding. His lashless eyes
gazed steadily into the other's face. Something the Mexican saw in them
impelled him towards the door. He moved backwards, keeping his face