rist. "There's your money, Bill. Count it--and give me a
receipt."

Donovan, with the dusty canteen dangling from his arm, looked
exceedingly foolish.

Waring turned to Quigley. "Bill's got a stroke," he said, smiling.
"Quigley, give me a receipt for a thousand dollars."

"Sure!" said Quigley, relieved. The money had been stolen from him.

Waring pulled up a chair and leaned his elbows on the table. Quigley
unscrewed the cap of the canteen. A stream of sand shot across a map.
The assistant started to his feet. Quigley shook the canteen and poured
out a softly clinking pile of gold-pieces. One by one he sorted them
from the sand and counted them.

"One thousand even. Where'd you overtake Vaca and his outfit?"

"Did I?" queried Waring.

"Well, you got the mazuma," said Quigley. "And that's good enough for
me."

Donovan stepped to the table. "Williams, I won't need you any more
to-day."

The assistant rose and left the office. Donovan pulled up a chair.
"Never mind about that receipt, Quigley. You can witness that Waring
returned the money. Jim, here, is not so dam' particular."

"No, or I wouldn't be on your pay-roll," said Waring.

Donovan laughed. "Let's get down to bed-rock, Jim. I'm paying you your
own price for this work. The Eastern office thinks I pay too high. I got
a letter yesterday telling me to cut down expenses. This last holdup
will make them sore. Here's the proposition. I'll keep you on the
pay-roll and charge this thousand up to profit and loss. Nobody knows
you recovered this money except Williams, and he'll keep still. Quigley
and you and I will split it--three hundred apiece."

"Suppose I stay out of the deal," said Waring.

"Why, that's all right. I guess we can get along."

Quigley glanced quickly at Waring. Donovan's proposal was an insult
intended to provoke a quarrel that would lead to Waring's dismissal from
the service of the Ortez Mines. Or if Waring were to agree to the
suggestion, Donovan would have pulled Waring down to his own level.

Waring slowly rolled a cigarette. "Make out my check," he said, turning
to Quigley.

Donovan sighed. Waring was going to quit. That was good. It had been
easy enough.

Quigley drafted a check and handed it to Donovan to sign. As the
paymaster began to gather up the money on the table, Waring pocketed the
check and rose, watching Quigley's nervous hands.

As Quigley tied the sack and picked it up, Waring reached out his arm.
"Give it to