ey approached rapidly, there was a step at the door, and a tall,
well-dressed figure in riding-breeches and leggings appeared. At sight of
Alex he halted in surprise.

"Who's this, Munson?" he demanded.

The cowman led the way outside and closed the door, and low words told
Alex that he was explaining the previous night's occurrences. More, they
told him that this well-dressed man was the connecting link between the
K. & Z. and the men who were seeking to interfere with the Middle Western
in the race for the Yellow Creek Pass.

What would be the outcome of the man's visit for him? Alex asked himself.
For the newcomer would not fail to appreciate the disadvantage of having
been seen there by the young employee of the M. W.

The young operator was not left long in doubt. The door again opened, and
the stranger re-entered, followed by the cowman, and without preliminary
placed a chair before Alex and dropped into it.

"Look here, my boy," he began, "how would you like to earn some extra
money--a good decent sum?"

At once seeing the man's intention, Alex bridled indignantly. But
suppressing his feelings, he responded, "I'd like to as well as anyone
else, I suppose--if I can earn it honorably."

At the last word a flush mounted to the stranger's cheeks, but he
continued. "Well, that's all a matter of opinion, you know. Every man has
his own particular code of honor. However--

"You probably have guessed who I am?"

"A K. & Z. man."

"Yes. Now look here: Suppose the K. & Z. was anxious to know from day to
day the precise progress the Middle Western is making in this race for
Yellow Creek, and suppose they were willing to pay a hundred dollars a
month for the information--would that proposition interest you?"

Alex replied promptly, "No, sir. And anyway, it's not the information you
want. It's my silence."

The man's face darkened. He had one more card to play, however.

"Well, let it go at that, then. And suppose, in addition to a hundred a
month to keep silent as to seeing me here, and what you have learned
generally, I should give you--" He thrust his hand into an inside pocket
and brought forth a long pocketbook. "Suppose I should give you, say two
hundred dollars, cash?"

Alex caught a knee between his hands and leaned back against the wall.

"I'm not for sale," he replied quietly.

The would-be briber thrust the book back into his pocket and sprang to
his feet, purple with anger.

"Very well, my you