"Well, I was just into Los Angeles, trying to round up that bank
examiner, and I thought maybe he'd made his report."

"What--really?" she cried, "don't you think the bank is safe? Why, all
my money is there!"

"How much you got?" he asked, and when she told him he snorted.
"Twenty-five thousand, eh?" he said. "How'd he pay you--with a check?
Well, he might not have had a cent. A man that will rob a girl will rob
his depositors--you'd better draw out a few hundred."

She rose up in alarm, but something in his smile made her sit down and
eye him accusingly.

"I know what you're doing," she said at last; "you're trying to break
his bank. You always said you would."

"Oh, that stuff!" he jeered, "that was nothing but hot air. I'm a
blow-hard--everybody knows that."

She looked at him again, and her face became very grave, for she knew
what was gnawing at his heart. And she was far from being convinced.

"You didn't thank me," she said, "for returning your grubstake. Does
that mean you really don't care? Or are you just mad because I took away
your mine? Of course I know you are."

"Sure, I'm mad," he admitted. "Wouldn't you be mad? Well, why should I
thank you for this? You take away my mine, that was worth millions of
dollars, and gimme back a piece of paper."

He slapped the contract against his leg and thrust it roughly into his
shirt, at which Wilhelmina burst into tears.

"I--I'm sorry I stole it," she confessed between sobs, "and now Father
and everybody is against me. But I did it for you--so you wouldn't get
killed--and so Father could have his road. And now he won't take it,
because the money isn't ours. He says I'm to return it to you."

"Well, you tell your old man," burst out Wunpost brutally, "that he's
crazy and I won't touch a cent. I guess I know how to get my rights
without any help from him."

"Why, what do you mean?" she queried tremulously, but he shut his mouth
down grimly.

"Never mind," he said, "you just hold your breath, and listen for
something to drop. I ain't through, by no manner of means."

"Oh, you're going to fight Eells!" she cried out reproachfully. "I just
know something dreadful will happen."

"You bet your life it will--but not to me. I'm after that old boy's
hide."

"And won't you take the money?" she asked regretfully, and when he shook
his head she wept. It was not easy weeping, for Wilhelmina was not the
kind that practises before a mirror, and the agony of it