he easy end of it,
Keith, 'count of Molly. You an' me can ride into town in yore car an'
clean this all up befo' the bank closes. We'll leave the money with
Creel of the Herefo'd National. Then you can come back an' git yore
boy."

"I don't remember the names. Blake took the record of them," said Keith
sullenly.

"Then we'll have him in."

Sandy went to the door and hailed Sam and Mormon. They came to the
office escorting Blake, whose fox-face moved from side to side with
furtive eyes as if he smelled a trap.

"We want the list of the folks you unloaded Molly stock to," said Sandy.

Blake looked at his employer who sat glowering at his cigar end, licked
his lips and said nothing.

"Speak up," said Sandy.

"There's a fine patch of prickly pear handy," suggested Sam. "Fine fo'
restorin' the voice. Last time we chucked a tenderfoot in there they had
to peel the shirt off of him in strips." He took the secretary by one
elbow, Mormon by the other, both grinning behind his back as he shook
with a sudden palsy in the belief that they meant their threat.

"Tell him, you damned fool!" grunted Keith.

"The stubs are in the car at Hereford depot," said Blake. "In the safe."

"Money there too? I suppose you cashed the checks?"

"I deposited them to my own account," said Keith. "Come on, let's get
this over with since you are determined to throw away your own and your
partners' good money, to say nothing of the girl's. She could bring suit
against you, Bourke, with a good chance of winning."

He glanced hopefully at Mormon and Sam. They kept on grinning.

"Round up that chauffeur, Sam, will you?" asked. Sandy. "Tell him we're
startin' fo' Herefo'd right off. You an' me can go over those accounts
of Molly's same time we attend to the other business, Keith."

They went outside, Blake looking anxious and a trifle bewildered, Keith
throwing away his cigar and lighting a new one, his face sullen with the
rage he dammed. Kate Nicholson and Miranda Bailey were on the
ranch-house veranda.

"Could I ask you to mail these letters, Mr. Keith? Two of Molly's and
one of my own." Kate Nicholson advanced toward him, the letters in hand.
With a spurt of fury Keith snatched at the letters and threw them on the
ground.

"To hell with you!" he shouted, his face empurpled. "You're fired!" All
of his polish stripped from him like peeling veneer, he appeared merely
a coarse bully.

Sam came up the veranda in two jumps and a final le