me a hund'ed dollars for buhnin' down my
cabin; an' he says to leave that an' the hund'ed you owes him on the
schoolhouse steps tomorrer night; an' if you don't hand 'em over now
I'm to put it up to the Cunnel!"

It was disconnected, but Brent understood the last part well enough.
Also, it had flashed across his mind that if Tusk were really burned
out, Tom had done it and concocted a plausible tale in order to gain
this fellow as an ally. So he sat for a minute trying to grasp the
dangling threads of this surprising situation.

"Tusk," he said, "I didn't know you were burned out, and, of course, I
didn't do it; but I will buy your land if you'll come in town Monday and
sign--that is, if Dulany finds the title clear. He's getting some other
pieces for me, and can put yours in. How much do you own?"

"Acre," Tusk answered. "Th' ain't no trick 'bout this?"

"Certainly not. But land up there where you are isn't worth a hundred
dollars an acre! What are you trying to put over on us, Tusk?"

"Don't make no difference," he growled. "I had a cabin, an' a bed, an
blanket; an' stove, too, sech as 'twas!"

"All right," Brent laughed. "I'll give you the hunner if you're at
Dulany's office Monday." A hundred was the exact maximum price he and
Dulany had decided on offering Potter for that little strip.

"How 'bout Tom's?"

"Tom's?" Brent looked down at him. "Oh, you just tell Tom to go to hell.
That's the place for him."

"Will I tell the Cunnel's folks to go there, too?" he asked, with
unintentional sagacity.

Brent hesitated; then, leaning over the saddle, put an impressive
question.

"Tusk, do you want to go to hell?"

"Shucks," he spat contemptuously, "hell ain't got nothin' on a feller
like me!"

"Then do you want to go to the penitentiary?"

"Fer Gawd sake," he sprang back, "what you mean?"

"Just this: You tell Tom that this blackmail has got to stop! Understand
the word?--Blackmail! Let it soak in well, Tusk:--Blackmail! It's a
penitentiary offense, and I'll have him up before the next Circuit
Court, sure! Or better still," he declared, growing more and more angry,
"I'll ride back and tell him myself!"

"Naw you don't," Tusk's hand went quickly to the bridle rein. "You don't
give me the slip that a-way!"

"I'm not trying to give you the slip, you poor fool! You come in town
day after tomorrow and get your money. That's all you want!"

"An' that's all you want, too, I reckon. But I ain't goin' nigh no