Roger.

"Damn you!" shrieked the German, jerking a heavy envelope from his inner
pocket and throwing it in Roger's face. Roger caught it and after
examining the contents, put it into his own pocket with a nod.

"Now, Mr. Werner," he said, "if you'll just annex Gustav, and plan to
leave at sun down, Hackett will drive you in with Preble's team. I hate
to lose Gustav. He was born to be a white man, poor devil."

Werner cleared his throat and spoke sneeringly: "And how do I know
you'll live up to your bargain, Moore?"

"Oh, I'm an American! I promise to hold the papers a week and a promise
isn't a scrap of paper in America. After the week's up, you won't enjoy
the climate, I can assure you of that. I'll send you a check for the
amount I've spent, next week, with the amount still untouched."

"Roger!" shouted Ernest, "Don't be a fool! It's the chance of your life
you're throwing down!"

"Come with me, Wolf," cried Werner, "Come with me! I'll give you
opportunities that you never dreamed of. You don't belong to this nation
of thick-headed numb-skulls. You're a German. You know all that Moore
knows about using solar heat. Come and help the Vaterland. Let this man
rot. Bah! He belongs to a nation of swine!"

There was silence in the adobe living room. Roger's face turned a slow
purple and sweat stood on his forehead. But by a supreme effort he kept
his clenched fists in his pockets and his eyes riveted on Ernest's.

"Choose, Ernest," he said, suddenly.

Ernest seemed scarcely to hear him. The sullenness that his face had
worn constantly for many days changed slowly to a look of anger that
distorted his features until his expression was demoniacal.

He clutched the revolver and leaned across the table with a hoarse
whisper:

"By God, if you insult America again, I'll shoot you! It's one thing to
admire Germany. It's another to sling mud at America."

"What, you too, you hybrid!" shrieked Werner. "You play Germany into the
hands of this swine; this monkey-headed inventor; this letter thief,
this----"

With an inarticulate roar, Ernest pulled the trigger just as Roger
knocked the revolver upward. The bullet lodged in the ceiling. But
Werner had had enough. While Roger clung to the roaring Ernest, he
rushed down the trail to the corral, where Hackett began at once to
hitch Dick's team to the buckboard.

"Let go of me, Roger! Let me get at him!" howled Ernest.

Dick came running up the trail. "It's all right, Dic