f the road are crooked. They play both
ends against the middle. They borrow money from the government and then
pay it out to themselves. You're one of these dreamers. You're Lodge's
pet. But you can't scare me."

"Coffee, if there was any law out here for stealing you'd go to jail,"
declared Neale. "You're a thief, same as this pup who tried to bribe me.
You're worse. You've held up the line. You've ordered your rotten work
done over and over again. This is treachery to General Lodge--to Henney,
who sent you out here. And to me it's--it's--there's no name low enough.
I surveyed the line through here. I drew the plans for Number Ten. And
I'm going to prove you both cheats. You and your contractor."

"Neale, there's more than us in the deal," said Coffee sullenly.

Colohan strode close, big and formidable. "If you mean me, you're a
liar," he declared. "An' don't say it!" Coffee was plainly intimidated,
and Colohan turned to Neale. "Boss, I swear I wasn't in on this deal.
Lately I guessed it was all wrong. But all I could do was obey orders."

"Neale, you can't prove anything," sneered Coffee. "If you have any
sense you'll shut up. I tell you this is only a LITTLE deal. I'm on the
inside. I know financiers, commissioners, Congressmen, and Senators--and
I told you before the directors are all in on this U. P. R. pickings.
You're a fool!"

"Maybe. But I'm no thief," retorted Neale.

"Shut up, will you?" shouted Coffee, who plainly did not take kindly to
that epithet before the gathering crowd. "I'm no thief... Men get shot
out here for saying less than that."

Neale laughed. He read Coffee's mind. That worthy, responding to the
wildness of the time and place, meant to cover his tracks one way or
another. And Neale had not lived long with Larry Red King for nothing.

"Coffee, you ARE a thief," declared Neale, striding forward. "The worst
kind. Because you stole without risk. You can't be punished. But I'll
carry this deal higher than you." And quick as a flash Neale snatched
some telegrams from Coffee's vest pocket. The act infuriated Coffee. His
face went purple.

"Hand 'em back!" he yelled, his arm swinging back to his hip.

"I'll bet there's a telegram here from Lee, and I'm entitled to keep
it," responded Neale, coolly and slowly.

Then as Coffee furiously jammed his hand back for his gun Neale struck
him. Coffee fell with the overturned table out in the sand. His gun
dropped as he dropped. Neale was there lig