hide his face and fury, giving himself the task of scraping mud from his
boots. When Blake got there Neale had himself fairly well in hand.

"Hello, Neale!" said Blake, suavely. "Collected some mud, I see. It's
sure a dirty job."

"Yes, it's been dirty in more ways than mud, I guess," replied Neale.
The instant his voice sounded in his ears it unleashed his temper.

"Sure has been a pile of money--dirty government money--sunk in there,"
rejoined Blake. He spoke with assurance that surprised Neale into a
desire to see how far he would go.

"Blake, it's an ill wind that blows nobody good."

A moment of silence passed before Blake spoke again. "Sure. And it'll
blow you good, too," he said, breathing hard.

"Every man has his price," replied Neale, lightly.

Then he felt a big, soft roll of bills stuffed into his hand. He took
it, trembling all over. He wanted to spring erect, to fling that bribe
in its giver's face. But he could, control himself a moment longer.

"Blake, who's the contractor on this job?" he queried, rapidly.

"Don't you know?"

"I don't."

"Well, we supposed you knew. It's Lee."

Neale started as if he had received a stab; the name hurt him in one way
and was a shock in another.

"Allison Lee--the commissioner?" he asked, thickly.

"Sure. Oh, we're in right, Neale," replied Blake, with a laugh of
relief.

Swift as an Indian, and as savagely, Neale sprang up. He threw the roll
of bills into Blake's face.

"You try to bribe me! ME!" burst out Neale, passionately. "You think
I'll take your dirty money--cover up your crooked job! Why, you sneak!
You thief! You dog!"

He knocked Blake down. "Hold--on--Neale!" gasped Blake. He raised
himself on his elbow, half stunned.

"Pick up that money," ordered Neale, and he threatened Blake again.
"Hurry!... Now march for camp!"

Neale walked the young engineer into the presence of his superior.
Coffee sat his table under the fly, with Somers and another man. Colohan
appeared on the moment, and there were excited comments from others near
by. Coffee stood up. His face turned yellow. His lips snarled.

"Coffee, here's your side partner," called Neale, and his voice was
biting. "I've got you both dead to rights, you liars!... You never even
tried to work on my plans for Number Ten."

"Neale, what in hell do you suppose we're out here for?" demanded
Coffee, harshly. "They're all getting a slice of this money. There's
barrels of it. The directors o