irts of it. Yes, there it was, well chalked out in Minky's bold
capitals--an invitation to all his customers to trade all the gold
they chose to part with to him at the usual rates, or to ship direct
to the bank at Spawn City by a stage that was to leave Suffering Creek
at eight o'clock on Wednesday morning, its safe delivery insured, at
special rates, by the storekeeper himself.

It was the most astounding notice, under the circumstances, ever seen
on Suffering Creek, and as the citizens read it excitement surged to a
tremendous pitch.

The man called Van expressed something of the thought in every mind as
he turned to Brand, who happened to be at his side.

"Gee!" he cried, with ironical levity. "Old Minky's plum 'bug.' He's
waited to 'unload' till James' gang has got the camp held up three
miles out. Wal, I ain't shippin'. Guess I'll trade my dust at a
discount. It's a sight easier carryin' United States currency."

"But he's guaranteein' delivery at the bank," protested Brand.

"That's what it sez, sure," observed White doubtfully.

"It beats me," said the burly miner perplexedly, again drawn to the
notice by the apparent recklessness of its purport. "It beats me
sure," he reiterated. Then, after a thoughtful pause, he went back to
his original statement as something that expressed the limit of his
understanding. "It sure do beat hell."

So it was throughout the morning. And by noon every soul in the camp
had seen or heard of Minky's contemplated recklessness. The place was
wild with excitement, and, instead of setting out for their various
claims for the usual day's work, every man went out to scrape together
any "dust" he possessed, and brought it in to trade.

And Minky bought with perfect good-humor, discounting at the
recognized tariff, but always with solemn eyes, and a mind still
wondering at his overnight interview with Wild Bill. He had obeyed him
implicitly, knowing that he was making a liberal profit for himself,
whatever the gambler might be risking. All his transactions were
guaranteed for him by the small fortune which Bill possessed safely
deposited in the Spawn City bank. Well, it was not for him to
hesitate.

But his trading was not carried on without comment and questioning.
Besides which, there was a heap of rough sarcasm and satire to put up
with from his customers. But he put up with it. He could afford to.
And to the closest questioning he had always one answer, and no
enlightenment