gh to be alarming.

"Confound the cashier! All he knows is what somebody else has told him."

"Mr. Lamson, do you yourself think that fourteen cents for hops to-day
is a fair price?" asked Kitsap, suddenly taking a conciliatory tone.

"Certainly I do. But if I want to buy hops at fourteen cents now and
hold them on a speculation, it's my own business."

"Entirely," said the Indian. "But I believe your conduct with the
ranchers who have agreed to sell is based on your statement that you had
already sold your own hops to these buyers from St. Louis for fourteen
cents."

"That's right," said Lamson boldly. "I can sell my hops for what I
like."

"Liar," said Kitsap, "you have _not_ sold your hops."

Lamson sprang to his feet, but the big rancher put out a big hand and
shoved him back.

"Sit down," said the big man. "Can't you see this here Kitsap's got the
floor?"

"As I understand it," continued Kitsap, turning to the men who had
signed the contract to sell to the raiders, "unless Mr. Lamson has
already delivered his hops to the buyers under his contract, the very
agreement is void, and you are all released."

"You bet your life that's right," said the big man with the gun, and
from all parts of the crowd came words of confirmation.

Lamson, for the first time during the encounter, felt uneasy. He looked
blankly at the three buyers. One of the gentlemen from St. Louis drew
the contract from his pocket.

"The young man is right," said the gentleman from St. Louis, in a
conciliatory tone. "Here is the contract, and I can safely assure our
friends that Mr. Lamson has carried out his part of the agreement."

"You bet," shouted Lamson, recognizing a very pretty bluff on the part
of the buyer.

"May I see the contract?" asked Kitsap.

The buyer passed it to him. Kitsap read the contract aloud, and then
tossed it over his head into the hands of the men who had signed it. The
buyers and Lamson came to their feet.

"Worthless paper," said Kitsap. "Lamson has not delivered his hop
receipts and therefore there is no contract."

A yell of delight went up from the crowd, and a shower of tiny bits of
white papers showed the fate of the instrument. Kitsap pointed his
finger at the enraged Lamson, and as the shower of paper fell about him
fairly shouted his denunciation:

"I, Kitsap, the clerk, am a representative of the Elliott Bay National
Bank. I come here by the orders of the _tyee_--the president. Your hop
rec