z I, and if you'll call off your bad-men I'll agree not to talk
to the sheriff."

"You can talk all you wish!" snapped out Eells with rising courage, "I'm
not afraid of your threats. And neither am I afraid of anything you can
do to test the validity of that contract. It will hold, absolutely, in
any court in the land; but if you will take me to your mine and turn it
over in good faith, I will agree to cancel the contract."

"Oh! You don't want nothing!" hooted Wunpost sarcastically, "but I'll
tell you what I will do--I'll give you thirty thousand dollars, cash."

"No! I've told you my terms, and there's no use coming back to me--it's
the Sockdolager Mine or nothing."

"Suit yourself," returned Wunpost, "but I'm just beginning to wonder
whether I'm shooting it out with the right men. What's the use of
fighting murderers, and playing tag with Apache Indians, when the man
that sends 'em out is sitting tight? In fact, why don't I come in here
and get _you_?"

"Because you're wrong!" answered Eells without giving back an inch,
"you're trying to evade the law. And any man that breaks the law is a
coward at heart, because he knows that all society is against him."

"Sounds good," admitted Wunpost, "and I'd almost believe it if
_you_ didn't show such a nerve But you know and I know that you
break the law every day--and some time, Mr. Banker, you're going to get
caught. No, you can guess again on why I don't shoot you--I just like to
see you wiggle. I just like to see a big fat slob like you, that's got
the whole world bluffed, twist around in his seat when a _man_
comes along and tells him what a dastard he is. And besides, I git a
laugh, every time I come back and you make me think of the Stinging
Lizard--and the road! But the biggest laugh I get is when you pull this
virtuous stuff, like the widow-robbing old screw you are, and then have
the nerve to tell me to my face that it's the Sockdolager Mine or
nothing. Well, it's nothing then, Mr. Penny-pincher; and if I ever get
the chance I'll make you squeal like a pig. And don't send no more
Apaches after _me_!"

He rose up and slapped the desk, then picked up the scalp-lock and
strode majestically out the door. But Judson Eells was unimpressed, for
he had seen them squirm before. He was a banker, and he knew all the
signs. Nor did John C. Calhoun laugh as he rode off through the night,
for his schemes had gone awry again. Every word that he had said was as
true as Gospe