he broke me, too!" answered Rimrock, raising his voice to a
defiant boom. "Here he comes now, the blue-faced old dastard!"

He thrust out his jaw and glared up the street where L. W. Lockhart,
the local banker, came stumping down the sidewalk. L. W. was tall and
rangy, with a bulldog jaw clamped down on a black cigar, and an air of
absolute detachment from his surroundings.

"Yes, I mean you!" shouted Rimrock insultingly as L. W. went grimly
past. "You claim to be a white man, and then stand in with that lawyer
to beat me out of my mine. I made you, you old nickel-pincher, and now
you go by me and don't even say: 'Have a drink!'"

"You're drunk!" retorted Lockhart, looking back over his shoulder, and
Rimrock jumped to his feet.

"I'll show you!" he cried, starting angrily after him, and L. W. turned
swiftly to meet him.

"You'll show me _what_?" he demanded coldly as Rimrock put his hand to
his gun.

"Never mind!" answered Rimrock. "You know you jobbed me. I let you in
on a good thing and you sold me out to McBain. I want some money and
if you don't give it to me I'll--I'll go over and collect from him."

"Oh, you want some money, hey?" repeated Lockhart. "I thought you was
going to _show_ me something!"

The banker scowled as he rolled his cigar, but there was a twinkle far
back in his eyes. "You're bad now, ain't you?" he continued
tauntingly. "You're just feeling awful! You're going to jump on Lon
Lockhart and stomp him into the ground! Huh!"

"Aw, shut your mouth!" answered Rimrock defiantly, "I never said a word
about fight."

"Uhhr!" grunted L. W. and put his hand in his pocket at which Rimrock
became suddenly expectant.

"Henry Jones," began the banker, "I knowed your father and he was an
honorable, hardworking man. You're nothing but a bum and you're
getting worse--why don't you go and put up that gun?"

"I don't have to!" retorted Rimrock but he moved up closer and there
was a wheedling turn to his voice. "Just two thousand dollars,
Lon--that's all I ask of you--and I'll give you a share in my mine.
Didn't I come to you first, when I discovered the Gunsight, and give
you the very best claim? And you ditched me, L. W., dad-burn you, you
know it; you sold me out to McBain. But I've got something now that
runs up into millions! All it needs is a little more work!"

"Yes, and forty miles of railroad," put in L. W. intolerantly. "I
wouldn't take the whole works for a gift!"

"No,