money like this."

[Illustration: "Just keep the change," said Wallingford grandly]

Wallingford had held the floor for fifteen solid minutes. Now he
paused for some one else to offer a remark, his eager eye glowing
with the sense of a duty not only well, but brilliantly, performed,
as it roved from one to the other in search of approval. But feeble
encouragement was in any other eye. Four men could have throttled him,
singly and in company. Wallingford was too enthusiastic an actor. He
was taking the part entirely too well, and a vague doubt began to
cross the minds of the other gentlemen in the party as to whether he
would do or not. It was Short-Card Larry who first recovered his poise
and broke the dismal silence.

"Show him one or two of those new hundreds, Mombley," he invited
Wallingford with almost a snarl.

Wallingford merely smiled in a superior way.

"You know I never carry any but the genuine," he said in mild
reproach. "It wouldn't do, you know. Anyhow, are we sure that Mr.
Pickins wants to invest?"

Mr. Pickins drew a long breath and once more plunged into the
character which he had almost doffed.

"Invest? Well, I reckon!" he nasally drawled. "If I can get twenty
thousand dollars as good money as that for five, I'd be a blame fool
not to take it. And I got the five thousand, too."

Things were coming back to a normal basis now, and the others cheered
up.

"Look here," Mr. Pickins went on, and, reaching down, he drew off with
much tugging one of the high boots, in the top of which had reposed a
package of greenbacks: ten crisp, nice-looking five-hundred-dollar
bills.

For just a moment Wallingford eyed that money speculatively, then he
picked up one of the bills and slid it through his fingers.

"It's good money, I suppose," he observed. "You can hardly tell the
good from the bad these days, except by offering to spend it. We might
break one of these--say for an automobile ride."

"No, you don't," hurriedly interposed Mr. Pickins, losing his nasal
drawl for the moment and reaching for the bill, which he put back in
the package, snapping a weak rubber band around it. "I reckon I don't
let go of one of these bills till I see something in exchange. I--I
ain't no greenhorn!"

His nasal drawl had come back, and now seemed to be the cue for all
the others to affect laughter.

"To be sure he's not," said Mr. Phelps, reaching over to slap him on
the back in all the jovial heartiness with which