."

"Do you call it desertion to leave a raging madman in a sinking boat
after you have urged him to seek the safety of another ship?"

"He made me what I am."

"And I will make you ten times what you are. With Ridgway you have no
chance to be anything but a subordinate. He is the Mesa Ore-producing
Company, and you are merely a cipher. I offer your individuality a
chance. I believe in you, and know you to be a strong man." No ironic
smile touched Harley's face at this statement. "You need a chance, and
I offer it to you. For your own sake take it."

Every grievance Eaton had ever felt against his chief came trooping to
his mind. He was domineering. He did ride rough-shod over his allies'
opinions and follow the course he had himself mapped out. All the glory
of the victory he absorbed as his due. In the popular opinion, Eaton
was as a farthing-candle to a great electric search-light in comparison
with Ridgway.

"He trusts me," the tempted man urged weakly. He was slipping, and he
knew it, even while he assured himself he would never betray his chief.

"He would sell you out to-morrow if it paid him. And what is he but a
robber? Every dollar of his holdings is stolen from me. I ask only
restitution of you--and I propose to buy at twice, nay at three times,
the value of your stolen property. You owe that freebooter no loyalty."

"I can't do it. I can't do it."

"You shall do it." Harley dominated him as bullying schoolmaster does a
cringing boy under the lash.

"I can't do it," the young man repeated, all his weak will flung into
the denial.

"Would you choose ruin?"

"Perhaps. I don't know," he faltered miserable.

"It's merely a business proposition, young man. The stock you have to
sell is valuable to-day. Reject my offer, and a month from now it will
be quoted on the market at half its present figure, and go begging at
that. It will be absolutely worthless before I finish. You are not
selling out Ridgway. He is a ruined man, anyway. But you--I am going to
save you in spite of yourself. I am going to shake you from that
robber's clutches."

Eaton got to his feet, pallid and limp as a rag. "Don't tempt me," he
cried hoarsely. "I tell you I can't do it, sir."

Harley's cold eye did not release him for an instant. "One million
dollars and an assured future, or--absolute, utter ruin, complete and
final."

"He would murder me--and he ought to," groaned the writhing victim.

"No fear of that. I'll put y