ted her with
his money? And that last innocent visit, when she had asked for her
stock, and thanked him so demurely at the end! She would not be
dismissed, all his rough words were wasted, until in the end she had
leaned over and kissed him. A Judas-kiss? Yes, if ever there was one; or
the kiss of Judith of Bethulia. But Judith had sold her kisses to save
her people--Virginia had sold hers for gold.

Yes, she had sold him out for money; after rebuking him from the
beginning she had stabbed him to the heart for a price. It was always
he, Wiley, who thought of nothing but money; who was the liar, the
miser, the thief. Everything that he did, no matter how unselfish, was
imputed to his love of money; and yet it had remained for Virginia,
the censorious and virtuous, to violate her trust for gain. It was not
for revenge that she had withheld the payment and snatched a million
dollars from his hand; she had told him herself that it was because
Blount had returned their stock and she would not throw it away. How
quick Blount had been to see that way out and to bribe her by
returning the stock--how damnably quick to read her envious heart and
know that she would fall for the offer. Well, now let them keep it and
smile their smug smiles and laugh at Honest Wiley; for if there ever
was a curse on stolen money then Virginia's would buy her no
happiness.

He raised his bloodshot eyes to look for the last time at the Paymaster,
which he had fought for and lost. What had they done to save it, to
bring it to what it was, to merit it for their own? For years it had
lain idle, and when he had opened it up they had fought him at every
step. They had shot him down with buckshot, and beaten him down with
rocks and threatened his life with Stiff Neck George. His eyes cleared
suddenly and he looked about the dump--he had forgotten his feud with
George. Yet if his men were gone, who then had driven them out but that
crooked-necked, fighting fool? And if George had driven them out, then
where was he now with his ancient, filed-down six-shooter? Wiley drew
his gun forward and walked softly towards the house, but as he passed a
metal ore-car a pistol was thrust into his face. He started back, and
there was George.

"Put 'em up!" he snarled, rising swiftly from behind the car, and the
hot fury left Wiley's brain. His anger turned cold and he looked down
the barrel at the grinning, spiteful eyes behind.

"You go to hell!" he growled, and Geo