have it that shows up. And get it here as
quick as you can--what you ain't got on hand--"

Fred was scratching his jaw meditatively with the pencil, and staring
at the order. "I can just about fill that order outa stock on hand," he
told Irish. "When all this land rush started I laid in a big supply of
posts and wire. First thing they'd want, after they got their shacks up.
How you making it, out there?"

"Fine," said Irish cheerfully, feeling his broken knuckles. "How much is
all that going to cost? You oughta make us a rate on it, seeing it's a
cash sale, and big."

"I will." Fred tore out a sheet and did some mysterious figuring,
afterwards crumpling the paper into a little wad and hipping it behind
the bed. "This has got to be on the quiet, Irish. I can't sell wire and
posts to those eastern marks at this rate, you know. This is just for
you boys--and the profit for us is trimmed right down to a whisper." He
named the sum total with the air of one who confers a great favor.

Irish grinned and reached into his pocket. "You musta knocked your
profit down to fifty percent.," he fleered. "But it's a go with me." He
peeled off the whole roll, just about. He had two twenties left in
his hand when he stopped. He was very methodical that night. He took a
receipt for the money before he left and he looked at it with glistening
eyes before he folded it with the money. "Don't sell any posts and wire
till our order's filled, Fred," he warned. "We'll begin hauling right
away, and we'll want it all."

He let himself out into the cool starlight, walked in the shadows to
where he had left his horse, mounted and rode whistling away down the
lane which ended where the hills began.

CHAPTER 14. JUST ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER

A gray clarity of the air told that daylight was near. The skyline
retreated, the hills came out of the duskiness like a photograph in the
developer tray. Irish dipped down the steep slope into Antelope Coulee,
cursing the sprinkle of new shacks that stood stark in the dawn on
every ridge and every hilltop, look where one might. He loped along the
winding trail through the coulee's bottom and climbed the hill beyond.
At the top he glanced across the more level upland to the east and his
eyes lightened. Far away stood a shack--Patsy's, that was. Beyond that
another, and yet another. Most of the boys had built in the coulees
where was water. They did not care so much about the view--over which
Miss Allen