nature of a pig to keep quiet with a dog at his heels."
Bennie stretched his neck out of the door to fire his parting shot.

Morrison went forth with a vigorous flea in each ear, which did much to
disturb his complacency. Bennie had not made him thoughtful, only
vengeful. There is nothing quite so discomposing as the scornful
rejection of proffers of self-seeking philanthropy. Bennie's indignation
was instinctive rather than analytical, the inherent instinct that puts
up the back and tail of a new-born kitten at its first sight of a
benevolent-appearing dog.

Morrison had not gone far from the boarding-house before he chanced
against Luna.

Morrison was the last person Luna would have wished to meet. Since his
interview with Firmstone he had scrupulously avoided the Blue Goose, and
he had seen neither Morrison nor Pierre. His resolution to mend his ways
was the result of fear, rather than of change of heart. Neither Morrison
nor Pierre had fear. They were playing safe. Luna felt their
superiority; he was doing his best to keep from their influence.

"Howdy!"

"Howdy!" Luna answered.

"Where've you been this long time?" asked Morrison, suavely.

Luna did not look up.

"Down at the mill, of course."

"What's going on?" pursued Morrison. "You haven't been up lately."

"There's been big things going on. Pierre's little game's all off." Luna
shrank from a direct revelation.

"Oh, drop this! What's up?"

"I'll tell you what's up." Luna looked defiant. "You know the last lot
of ore you pinched? Well, the old man's got it, and, what's more, he's
on to your whole business."

Morrison's face set.

"Look here now, Luna. You just drop that little _your_ business. It
looks mighty suspicious, talking like that. I don't know what you mean.
If you've been pulling the mill and got caught you'd better pick out
another man to unload on besides me."

"I never took a dollar from the mill, and I told the old man so. I----"

But Morrison interrupted:

"You've been squealing, have you? Well, you just go on, only remember
this. If you're going to set in a little game of freeze-out, you play
your cards close to your coat."

Luna saw the drift of Morrison's remarks, and hastened to defend
himself.

"It's gospel truth. I haven't squealed." He gave a detailed account of
his midnight interview with Firmstone, defining sharply between his
facts and his inferences. He finally concluded: "The old man's sharp.
There isn't a cor