lly $25,000 of the profits in appreciation of your assistance.
And that is not all"--he squeezed both the widow's hands a moment, then
released them as if by terrific resolution--"but more of that later.
We must close up this prosaic business first."

The next morning at ten o'clock Jim Crill stamped up the outside
stairway, stamped through the open door and threw a check for $25,000
on Reedy's desk.

"That's the last," the old gentleman snapped with finality. "And I
want to begin to see some payments mighty quick."

Reedy smiled as the old gentleman stamped back down the stairs, proud
of his own ability as a "worker." And he was not without admiration
for Mrs. Barnett's ability in that line. It would be interesting to
know how she had done it so quickly.

"If the old man knew," Reedy picked up the check and grinned at the
crabbed signature, "what this is going for, he'd drop dead with
apoplexy at the foot of the stairs."

He reached for the telephone and called the freight agent:

"Are those motor trucks in yet? Good! We'll have them unloaded at
once."

There are two ways to make a lot of money perfectly honestly: One is to
produce much at a time when the product legitimately has such a high
value that it shows a good profit. The other is to plan, invent, or
organize so as to help a great many men save a little more, or earn a
little more, and share the little with each of the many benefited. And
there are two ways to get money wrongfully: One is by criminal
dishonesty--taking under some of the multiple forms of theft what does
not at all belong to one. The other is by moral dishonesty--forcing or
aggravating acute needs, and taking an unfair advantage of them,
blackmailing a man by his critical wants.

Reedy Jenkins had merely intended to be the latter. He had not planned
to produce anything, nor yet to help other men produce, but to farm
other men's needs--get hold of something so necessary for their success
that it would force tribute from them. He planned to hold a hammer
over the weakest link in others' financial deals and threaten to break
it unless they paid him double for the hammer.

Reedy indorsed Jim Crill's check, and stuck it in his vest pocket. He
liked to go into a bank and carelessly pull $25,000 checks out of his
vest pocket. Then he took from a drawer twenty letters already typed,
signed them, and put them into envelopes addressed to the ranchers who
bought water of the Dillenbe