terrible was his presence
that the saloon-keeper never hinted at pay. He poured out drink after
drink of the vitriolic whiskey, which Whiskers made in the secrecy of
his back-room; and as Wunpost drank and shuddered the waspish Phillip F.
Lapham set about his complete undoing. First he went to Dusty Rhodes,
who still claimed a full half, and browbeat him until he fell back to a
third; and then, when Dusty priced his third at one million, he turned
to the disillusioned Billy. Her ideas were more moderate, as far as
values were concerned, but her loyalty to Wunpost was still unshaken and
she refused to even consider a sale. Back and forth went the lawyer like
a shuttle in its socket, from Dusty Rhodes to Wilhelmina and then back
once more to Rhodes; but Dusty would sign nothing, sell nothing, agree
to nothing, and Billy was almost as bad. She placed a cash value of
twenty thousand dollars on her interest in the Willie Meena Mine, but
the sale was contingent upon the consent of John C. Calhoun, who had
drowned his sorrows at last. So they waited until morning and Billy laid
the matter before him when her father brought the drunken man to their
tent.

Wunpost was more than drunk, he was drugged and robbed of reason by the
poison which Old Whiskers had brewed; but even with this handicap his
mind leapt straight to the point and he replied with an emphatic "No!"

"Twenty thousand!" he repeated, "twenty thousand devils--twenty thousand
little demons from hell! What do you want to sell me out for--didn't I
give you your interest? Well, listen, kid--you ever been to school? Then
how much is one-sixth and one-third--add 'em together! Makes
_three_-sixths, don't it--well, ain't that a half? I ain't
educated, that's all right; but I can _think_, kid, can't I? Flip
Flappum he wants to get control. Give him a half, under my contract, and
he can take possession--and then where do _I_ git off? I git off at
the same place I got off over at Wunpost; he's trying to freeze me out.
So if you want to do me dirt, kid, when I've always been your friend, go
to it and sell him your share. Take your paltry twenty thousand and let
old Wunpost rustle--serves him right, the poor, ignorant fool!"

He swayed about and Billy drew away from him, but her answer to Lapham
was final. She would not sell out, at any price, without the consent of
Wunpost. Lapham nodded and darted off--he was a man who dealt with facts
and not with the moonshine of sentiment