d fury.

"Call up Bergman!" he ordered.

Hudson made haste to obey.

"Oh, that's all right! I'd just as soon wait," said Pete cheerfully.
"Hank's at home, anyhow. I told him maybe you'd want to ask about the
check."

"He should have notified us before drawing out any such amount," fumed
Marsh. "This is most unusual, for a small bank like this. He told us he
shouldn't need this money until this fall."

"Draft on El Paso will do. Don't have to have cash."

"All very well--but it will be a great inconvenience to us, just the
same."

"Really--but that is hardly our affair, is it?" said Pete carelessly.

The banker smote the shelf with an angry hand; some of the rouleaus of
gold stacked on the inner shelf toppled and fell; gold pieces clattered
on the floor.

"Johnson, what is your motive? What are you up to?"

"It's all perfectly simple. Old Hank and me used to be implicated
together in the cow business down on the Concho. One of the Goliad
Bergmans--early German settlers."

Here Hudson hung up and made interruption.

"Bergman says the check is right," he reported.

Johnson resumed his explanation:

"As I was sayin', I reckon I know all the old-time cowmen from here to
breakfast and back. Old Joe Benavides, now--one of your best depositors;
I fished Joe out of Manzanillo Bay thirty year back. He was all drowned
but Amen."

Wetting his thumb he slipped off the next paper from under the rubber
band. Marsh eyed the sheaf apprehensively and winced.

"Got one of Joe's checks here," Pete continued, smoothing it out. "But
maybe I won't need to cash it--to-day."

"Johnson," said the vice-president, "are you trying to start a run on
this bank? What do you want?"

"My money. What the check calls for. That is final."

"This is sheer malice."

"Not a bit of it. You're all wrong. Just common prudence--that's all. You
see, I needed a little money. As I was tellin' you, I got right smart of
property, but no cash just now; nor any comin' till steer-sellin' time.
So I come down to Tucson on the rustle. Five banks in Tucson; four of
'em, countin' yours, turned me down cold."

"If you had got Bergman to sign with you--" Marsh began.

"Tell that to the submarines," said Pete. "Good irrigated land is better
than any man's name on a note; and I don't care who that man is. A man
might die or run away, or play the market. Land stays put. Well, after my
first glimpse of the cold shoulder I ciphered round a spell. I'm a